


An Outsider's Pilgrimage

by VeneraVeronice



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23635819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeneraVeronice/pseuds/VeneraVeronice
Summary: She fell from grace... in a way, literally.  When she finds herself in a world where magic exists, dragons exist, and politics (in a way) still affects the fate of everyone's future, she has to slip through everything to survive,  by any means necessary.  Even if it means being a wing(wo)man for some of the critically important figures of the events in a world named Thedas.





	1. A Simple Greeting

What the title said.

First off, welcome!

This is technically my first post here, and I'd like to give you a heads-up:

1) It's a fanfic about a Mary Sue OC who just happens to be in the world of Thedas [or TheDAS ...sorry]

2) You get to see my ideal story flow of the franchise, which may include legitimate scenes and actual dialog from the games themselves

3) Yeah, I wanted this to be as close to canon [or something] as it can get, with a sprinkle of my OC's interference, so to speak

4) This story can get ugly... in every way, shape, or form

5) Yep; trigger warning every now and then

6) I _may_ have a thing with blonds _and_ blondes, so pardon the way things may go in this

7) Tags will be updated in time

My sincerest apologies for any error here; I'm still learning and I'd be glad to hear from folks who know the ways of the site.

Also, constructive criticism is much appreciated :)

That said, I hope you'll enjoy this... piece I have long hesitated to share [I might even post these in DeviantArt if I have a care /shrugs]

Have fun~


	2. When This Began

> Light. Bright light.
> 
> Way too bright.
> 
> ...trees? Feet?
> 
> A man?

"Are you all right?"

The woman groaned as she got up, holding her head as if in a daze. The moment she touched something, however, she froze.

"What...?"

She looked at what her hand had grabbed.

> The ground.
> 
> ...but how?

"Where am I?" the woman unconsciously asked.

"You're in the Korcari Wilds," said the man, "Not too far from Ostagar. Do you remember how you got here?"

The woman's brows furrowed. She remained quiet, perhaps trying to recall what had happened to her before waking up in the middle of the forest.

But the man caught on with her expression. "You can't remember anything, I take it," he said. The woman simply shook her head no. The man looked around the place, as if anticipating. Seeing that the coast was clear, he knelt beside the woman, who was still sitting on the ground.

"Do you feel anything hurting?" the man asked.

"No," the woman replied in a murmur.

"Good." The man leaned a bit closer to her and spoke in a lowered voice. "We will have to go now. This place is too dangerous for an unarmed person."

"Uh... okay," the woman said, then abruptly turned to the man. "Where to?" she asked.

"There is a ruin of an old fortress not too far from here, but it will take us some time to reach," the man replied. "If we leave now, we may get there before nightfall."

"Well, let's get going, then." The woman got up, making sure that she won't feel any cramps or sudden blood surges in her legs. The man helped her up, careful of her yet cautious of their surroundings.

> He doesn't seem to look around too much, but he seems to know the place too well.

"I want you to stay near me at all times. If you notice something unusual as we go along, let me know at once, do you understand?" the man told the woman.

"Yes, ser," the woman replied. "What am I expecting, though?"

The man took a deep breath.

> A sign of hesitation.

"There are creatures that roam within this place," the man said. "These are armed and eager to stalk on anything that lives. If you catch a glimpse of them, let me know but do not make a sound." The man emphasized the last few words with urgency.

> Yup, not a good sign. I’ll keep that in mind.

“So,” the woman said, “Lead on.”

The man was about to turn around when the woman stopped him.

“At least give me a name as an introduction,” the woman said.

The man glanced at the surroundings, then turned to the woman.

“I am Duncan.”

* * *

The forest was eerily serene, calm, ambient with avian music and the natural tune of the wilderness. The man and his newfound companion treaded along, focused on their path yet highly observant of their surroundings.

> Chirping. Rustling.
> 
> More chirping. And rustling.
> 
> Another rustle.
> 
> And oh, look, more chirping. No, wait; that was cawing.
> 
> Hmm, there’s a crow in here?

The woman shrugged off the question.

“You may need to hasten your walk, milady,” Duncan said without looking back to her, “Or we may find ourselves surrounded by unwanted company ere we make it to the ruin.”

The woman’s eyes widened as she hurried along to catch up with her guide.

* * *

> I swear it’s been hours since we started.

The overcast sky kept the woman from knowing how long they’ve been walking. The forest seemed eerily well lit, though. She looked at her guide, who was frighteningly quiet for a human, his eyes surveying the area they treaded with caution.

A rustle was heard from their left.

The man immediately grabbed the woman by the arm, pulling her close behind him.

“Don’t make a sound,” Duncan murmured, his eyes darting around their surroundings.

“There’s growling at the left side,” the woman whispered.

“Stay close.”

The man sheathed his weapons: a sword and what seems to be a long dagger.

> I’m pretty sure that was a dagger.

Duncan gestured that they continue walking, the woman staying closer to him just to make sure.

> _They can’t be too close to us. Not now._

> Wait… what?

> _We’ve got to get to the others. Maker preserve us._

> …I’m not really hearing his thoughts, am I?

A whistling sound came towards the two.

“Get down!”

Duncan immediately pushed the woman away the moment he caught sight of the sound’s source. Stuck to the tree trunk and barely missing his face was an arrow.

The woman clearly saw the arrow from where she fell.

> What the flying fuck. Darkspawn?

Duncan yanked her up, saying, “Come, we must go!”

The woman nodded as she kept up to the pace her guide was effortlessly making… or at least tried to. She already took note of their height difference.

> I feel like a running Dwarf. Psh; I bet even Dwarves run faster than me.

She could now hear the rustling of the leaves, as if someone—or something—was chasing them. The woman caught a glimpse of the tallest tower in the ruined fortress, slightly faded due to the distance. Ostagar is not too far now.

The trampling of boots, metal clinking at every step. Faint, but still audible to the woman as she and her companion ran as fast as they could. She occasionally turned to the tower, just to have a tiny sense of hope that they’ll make it. But the more they ran towards it, the farther the tower seemed to move.

“Hurry!” Duncan called out, seemingly unfazed by the constant running.

> Well, yeah, I’m hurrying here! I’m sorry if I’ve got short legs!

The woman continued to run. She noticed herself catching up with Duncan.

They passed a few more leagues. The woman was surprised to find herself still running. She was now about two arms’ length close to Duncan. Still far, but close enough to jump towards him if the need arises. She was getting closer…

> Almost there… almost there… almost there… and I’m—
> 
> Oof!

The woman bumped into Duncan’s back, after not noticing the man suddenly stopping. Good thing he stood like a freaking rock, or they may have fallen off the cliff in front of him.

“What? What—what the—wha— _whoa_. Okay.” The woman saw a glimpse of the cliff as she slightly peeked from behind Duncan. But that was only a glimpse, as Duncan grabbed her by the arm—again—while turning around to face their hunters.

“Stay behind me,” he told her. “And stay close.”

The woman gulped as she nodded, watching the man approach the incoming hostiles. There she saw who—or what—were chasing them: hideous, armed creatures that walked—well, _moved_ like humans, but slobbered and growled like animals.

> Dogs? Hope not. Nope; definitely not.

The creatures awaited their human challenger to approach them and start a fight.

> Darkspawn.
> 
> No.
> 
> You’ve got to be kidding me.

The woman surveyed the creatures.

> Too many. Way too many.

Counting those she could easily see (since some were partly or almost completely hidden by the bushes and the tree trunks), the woman reckoned more than ten, but less than twenty.

> Yup; we’re outnumbered.

When she looked at Duncan, however, he seemed rather unfazed by the darkspawn outnumbering him.

Duncan focused on the darkspawn before him. He trusted in the woman’s obedience.

> _Thirteen. Too many for a party of darkspawn._

Duncan gripped on his blades tighter. The woman watched in anticipation.

> Here we go.

The nearest darkspawn charged towards the man, swinging its sword wildly. It missed its target; Duncan was quick to evade as he sidestepped at the moment the darkspawn swung its weapon towards him. But as quickly as he avoided the first attack, Duncan swung his blades towards the darkspawn, with such force that he managed to decapitate the creature before it could even lift its sword back up.

> This… is going to be one heck of a show.

The rest of the darkspawn horde charged towards the lone fighter. But each time, their attacks either missed or parried, and were most often countered with strikes that either immobilized the target or killed it. Just your typical fight scene in a fantasy epic; only this was up close.

The woman stayed where she was as she watched the whole ordeal. Every clash of blades, metal clinking at every parry; every scream of pain or anger; every thump of footsteps in the attempt to fell the enemy: these sounds in the heat of battle caused the woman to feel unusually mesmerized while at the same time slightly frightened by the reality that was before her. She stood in awe throughout the entire time, witnessing the might of one man attacking thirteen creatures without help.

But her amazement and wonder were short-lived, however, when she noticed one of the creatures taking sight of her. The darkspawn, armed with a bow, seemed to chuckle as it grabbed an arrow—which she realized was the same as that they saw stuck on the tree trunk earlier—and set it to its bow, pulling the string back in aim to its desired target. Time seemed to slow down at that moment, as the woman stared at the same arrow while it flew off the archer’s bow. Out of fear, she instinctively raised her arms, as if to shield herself from the arrow (which we all agree to be useless, by the way). But as she did so, she felt cold—unrealistically cold, mind you—and felt this coldness course through her veins all the way to her hands. The next thing she knew, a shield of ice appeared from her left arm, wide enough to block the arrow and hard enough for it to break in half due to the force of its flight; and from her right hand, a spear of ice came out like a ghost and flew straight towards the darkspawn archer, impaling its head, killing it instantly. She watched the body drop on the ground, in disbelief of what just happened, then stared at her hands which were now emanating a soft chill and a pale bluish white glow.

> Did I just… do that? Cool.

Just before she could rejoice over this newfound talent, she noticed the darkspawn near the fallen archer turn their heads to her. She was now their target.

> Well… shit.

Fortunately, Duncan had slain a handful of darkspawn already, thus making this impossible task (at least for the woman) a bit easier. But of course, the man was too busy on his own business, he did not witness the woman defending herself and retaliating.

> _Something’s amiss._

Duncan continued to fight, eager to finish this off quickly so that they can rush forth to Ostagar. Little did he know what the woman was already doing behind him. (Well, you can say it was meant in a literal sense, since he had not turned to check on his companion yet. Or not.) Little, I say, because he already sensed the chill emanating from the woman’s spells, so he was already aware that something was going on, albeit slightly.

A few more darkspawn, and it was over. As the last darkspawn fell on its knees, the man sheathed his blades with a sigh of relief. A brief yet thorough survey confirmed that there were no more darkspawn nearby. He turned around to finally check on his unarmed companion. Or so he thought.

“That’s the last of them. How are you faring—”

Duncan paused midsentence as he saw the woman carrying an unlikely thing: a sword made of ice.

The woman had just struck her last opponent with an ice blast when she noticed Duncan staring at her. Somewhat oblivious of the man’s silence, she puffed a sigh of relief as she turned to him.

“Well, at least they’re dead,” she said. Duncan merely raised a brow. The woman raised her brows in response. “What?” she asked.

Duncan pointed at her hand. The woman looked at it, seeing the sword she wielded.

“Oh. _Oh._ ” She looked back at Duncan. “Uh… what about it?”

“I don’t recall you carrying any weapon,” Duncan replied, “Let alone one made of _ice_.”

The woman’s eyes grew as round as saucers. “Oh, you mean this?” She chuckled nervously. “Well…” she finished with a shrug.

“So, you’re a mage, I take it?” Duncan asked her.

The woman stared at him for a moment. “Who, me?” she asked back.

“Yes, you.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then explain that.”

The woman looked at her sword once more. “Oh. Well, look; I don’t know how I did this, okay? …how would I know?”

Duncan sighed. “I believe there’s only one way to find out.” He turned around once again to survey their surroundings. “The coast is clear. We should proceed.”

The woman stared down the cliff, then turned to Duncan. “Where do we go to get there?” she asked, pointing towards the faint tower.

“We’re going to have to make a detour,” Duncan replied. “This ravine ends further to the left, but it may take us more time to reach Ostagar.” He then checked the skies to determine the time. “If we go now, we should arrive there by dusk.” But when he turned back to the woman, though, Duncan found her seemingly holding on to a bridge made of pure (hardened) ice. He simply slumped his shoulders as if in defeat and shook his head.

“I wonder how long this will hold,” the woman spoke to herself as she stood up. She then turned (yet again) to Duncan and said, “It’s the best that I could do. I’ll try crossing first to check its durability.”

“No, no, no,” Duncan replied in exasperation. “I will go first. If it collapses, at least I know how to climb back up. I wouldn’t want you getting hurt over this.”

The woman raised a finger to reply. “But—”

“No excuses,” Duncan interrupted. “My decision is final.”

The man approached the ice bridge with caution, knowing that its creator is clearly a neophyte in terms of elemental manipulation. (In layman’s terms, she’s still a newbie mage, whether she likes it or not.) He stood before the end of the bridge and observed it.

> _Made of ice, indeed. No doubt one would confuse it as having been made by a more experienced mage._

> Well, excuse—no, not now. That seems rather flattering.

The woman waited for Duncan to step on the bridge, like a culinary student waiting for her mentor to taste the food she made. Obviously fearing for his safety, she hoped that the bridge won’t collapse, let alone crack as he treaded across.

Duncan stepped on the bridge. To his surprise, it felt like stepping on marble. He continued on, caution still constant in his mind as he observed every part of the bridge that he could see. Every detail, every piece, he noted, acknowledged, a flicker of thought in his mind that the woman may have thought this through (and thoroughly, mind you) before actually crafting the bridge with magic. He paused upon reaching the middle. Turning around to observe even further, Duncan noted the woman’s position outside the bridge. He then looked down to the surfacing, which seemed to have been made of blocks of ice set by master masons. It seemed to have sparked a bit of memory to him, however, but shook it off his mind before it could even take form. He then looked around him; the forests on both sides of the ravine seemed to have no signs of anything or anyone lurking nearby. The chirping of birds and crickets were faint, and the rushing water of what could be a river even fainter. Duncan decided it was enough and turned back to the other side of the bridge to proceed.

Upon reaching the ground, Duncan looked around (again), just to make sure that they wouldn’t be ambushed there. When he deemed the place safe, he called out to the woman.

“You can come over now.”

The woman nodded and crossed the bridge. A lot more cautious than her companion, the woman tried to focus on her destination since she was feeling rather chilly. Perhaps it was because of the bridge. Perhaps it was the height (or the depth) of the ravine.

> Don’t. Look. Down.

But of course, Duncan noticed her fear. Dismissing his opinion of her, Duncan walked near the bridge to show assurance that she’ll be fine. But the moment she saw him there, the woman ran all the way across, jumping off the bridge to the ground like a child would when playing.

Duncan remained patient and walked towards the direction of the tower. “We must go,” he said.

The woman tried to collect herself and rushed over to Duncan. Her close proximity let Duncan know that she was aware of what she should do. He merely looked to the side, then turned forth to focus on their path. Before entering the forest, the woman took note of the sun’s direction.

> Slightly between overhead and the horizon? Mid-afternoon, then.
> 
> We may still have enough time to get there.

* * *

The rest of the trip to Ostagar was uneventful. All they heard were the natural tunes of the environment. The tower now seemed less faint as they went on towards it. Critters and other harmless animals scurried off as they passed by. As she did earlier, the woman took note of the sun’s position. It seemed to have moved to their left.

> Near sundown.

“Are we there yet?” the woman asked like a naïve child.

“Not yet,” was the reply from her companion.

After crossing a stream and having a few moments of rest, the pair finally saw a mountain before them. Upon seeing it, though, the woman caught a flashback of an unknown memory.

> _That is one of the mountains from where the darkspawn charged down to the defenders in Ostagar. The Grey Wardens could already sense them long before the creatures would become visible if the trees were absent._

> It’s a what now?

“Grey Wardens,” the woman unconsciously muttered.

But Duncan could still hear her. His eyes narrowed with suspicion upon hearing the name.

> _What does she know of the Wardens?_

The woman was unaware of his thoughts, however, since she was preoccupied by the memory she just had.

> Where on Earth did I hear that?

The woman almost tripped over a rock when she noticed Duncan halt.

“Tell me,” Duncan spoke, “What do you remember as of now?”

The woman looked around, fiddling her fingers nervously.

> Should I tell him or not?

“Well…”

The woman hesitantly looked at Duncan.

“It’s all right,” Duncan said. “You won’t get in trouble.”

The woman gulped. “Uh… this mountain,” she started, “The other side; is it the fortress?”

Duncan pondered for a moment. “It is.”

“Is it directly in front of Ostagar?”

“Almost, yes. Why?”

The woman’s brows furrowed, her mood grim. “The darkspawn,” she said, “I… had a hunch that they’d attack Ostagar from here. Or at least charge from here.”

Duncan looked around. He noticed that the place did seem accessible by massive armies. He decided to keep that in mind, just in case.

Also noting the nearing sunset, Duncan then turned to the woman. “Then we should proceed,” he said.

The duo then treaded along the foot of the mountain.

The sun seemed to favor the two as Duncan and the woman traveled down the slope. The terrain was kind, as well; it was an easy descent as the gap between the trees revealed a magnificent sight.

> Ostagar.

“Wow.”

The woman basked in the view of the fortress. The faded, weathered, and worn structure bore so many scars of its history, be it renowned or forgotten. For a set of ruins, Ostagar seemed quite useful in terms of defense; the narrow passage between the towering parts of the structure funneling towards the back to easily target the attackers. The bridge proved to be an excellent spot for an archer, but artillery could easily cripple the defenders if able to destroy it. The woman also took note of the trebuchets set up strategically along the edges.

> I’d want to use one of those someday.
> 
> If I could, that is.

If anything, the woman wanted to visit the top areas, in order to see what the mountainside actually looked like. But surpassing the entirety of the fortress was the Tower of Ishal. Seemingly untouched by time and chaos, the Tower stood proudly above everything else. The woman wondered if the Tower was still accessible.

“What do you think of it?” Duncan unexpectedly asked.

“Huh?” the woman shook her head off her daydreaming. “Uh, oh, uh, wow; it’s beautiful if you ask me.” She chuckled nervously.

“Based on your hunch, that will be the first line of defense should the darkspawn invade this land,” Duncan said. “You may have noticed how the fortress still has defensive artillery intact.”

“Yup, I see them,” the woman said, staring at the fortress.

> So, this is what the fortress looks like from here.

“So, what do you know about darkspawn?”

The woman almost choked.

> Wait; was I drooling?

“Huh? Oh, darkspawn?”

“Yes.”

“Uh… cursed mortals doomed to live their lives as corrupted creatures; bound to constantly seek for the Old Gods in the attempt to corrupt them and use them for whatever shtuff they wanted to do; able to corrupt other mortals, or worse; and apparently only has one organization to match.”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed. Every word she said set off an alarm that caused his suspicion to grow.

> _She must know more than she lets on._

“Uh… why are you squinting like that?” the woman asked, oblivious to Duncan’s thoughts.

“You must know something else,” Duncan replied. His aura felt dark and heavy.

> This… doesn’t look good.

“You’re not really planning to kill me, are you?” the woman asked. Her naivety was beginning to bore through Duncan’s patience.

“Not if I can help it,” he replied gruffly. “What else do you know?”

“They’re ugly, some utterly disgusting,” the woman said with a shrug. “You’re interrogating me here?”

Duncan sighed.

> _I cannot believe this._

“Look, ser, you may suspect me of being someone’s spy, but you’d most likely know who I’m working for before I even get to say something,” the woman said, suddenly sounding serious. “That, and I’d most likely tell you everything without having to pull that blade of yours out of that scabbard.”

Duncan was caught off guard. In disbelief, he let go of the hilt he had been secretly reaching for since starting the discussion. How this woman knew, he might never know.

The woman sighed as Duncan turned to face her. “If you want me to tell you everything I think I know, I don’t mind,” she continued. She crossed her arms and raised a brow. Duncan noted it as a sign of discomfort. “But of course, it will cause me to suspect your motives in return.”

“If that is the case, then perhaps we should stay here first,” Duncan replied. “I will not bring harm to those within the fortress, and if you endanger anyone, I will kill you myself.”

“Then so be it.” The woman looked around, as if to find something to sit on. “Where do I start?”

“You mentioned the Grey Wardens,” Duncan said.

“Did I?”

“You muttered the name.”

“…oh.”

Duncan leisurely sat on a nearby rock, while keeping himself alert, especially to the woman. “Speak.”

“I only know them as the only ones capable of defeating the darkspawn,” the woman said. “They can sense darkspawn, as the darkspawn can sense them. Immune to the taint, yet prone to the Calling. If anything, venturing into the Deep Roads is the ultimate funeral for them, since all they will do is kill or be killed. Or turn into darkspawn.” The woman turned to the fortress. “This place,” she continued, “will be an open graveyard to many soldiers, Grey Warden or not. The darkspawn will overwhelm them. To survive the battle would be a miracle.” The woman lowered her head, deep in thought, but her eyes remained open. Duncan pondered on her words.

“You say that a battle will happen here?” Duncan asked.

“Yes,” the woman answered, looking up to him. In a sudden, her eyes widened. “Wait; there wasn’t a battle here before?”

“No. The last time people fought here happened ages ago.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Are you sure you’re not making things up?” Duncan asked.

“No,” the woman replied. “It seemed… real. Either it happened, or it is about to happen.”

“Hours ago, you don’t remember anything, even your own name. Now you’re telling me things that you say are about to happen.”

“You may or may not attempt to prove or disprove me, ser. Either way, I’m just telling you what I think I know.”

Taking her words as a warning of things to come, Duncan observed the woman once more for any signs of insincerity. “I may or may not believe you,” Duncan said. “But whatever you say will be used against you, should you attempt anything harmful. Proceed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I got nothing to say /shrugs  
> entries in blockquotes are inner thoughts [plain lines are from the woman-who-is-yet-to-be-named [OC]; italicized lines are from other characters]
> 
> Hope the story didn't bother ya lol


	3. Amongst The Crowd

The dome-tipped towers of Ostagar shone from the rays of the sun, faintly revealing a glorious image of ages past when it was once filled with people that served old kings long forgotten or ignored.

The duo arrived at the bottom of the ruins. The woman beheld the ruins in awe as they entered the valley.

“Wow,” the woman constantly repeated as she enjoyed the view.

The duo walked along the valley between the towering halves of the fortress. From below, the woman could notice people crossing the bridge above them; some were seen standing along the edges, either alone or with company, ever vigilant for any darkspawn activity.

Ahead of the woman, Duncan led on, still pondering on what the woman told him earlier. The Battle of Ostagar, as the woman called it, was supposed to happen; a battle between the darkspawn and the combined forces of Ferelden, Orlais, and the Grey Wardens. But Orlais would not be present, they would not receive word from the king at all; the Grey Wardens would send one of theirs to investigate. And as an added bonus, the woman spoke of the battle happening at 9:30 Dragon.

> Two years from now.

Resolved to investigate on these supposed events (as well as this still unidentified woman’s origins), Duncan decided to shake the thoughts off his head and continue with their current plan.

“I’m sure you’re going to place the majority of the armies here in the valley, right?” the woman called out an inquiry as she caught up with Duncan. “I mean, defending this place from up there can’t be enough.”

“Of course,” Duncan replied. “But as you can see, it will require a massive army to occupy the valley.”

They crossed under the bridge.

“True.” The woman looked around. She saw no sign of possible passage towards the top.

> It would require digging upwards to do a sneak attack, then. Even the trees aren’t exactly “invader-friendly,” judging by the slope on which they stand.

“Come,” Duncan called out. “The path to the camp lies this way.”

They turned to the left, where the valley narrowed, yet still accessible; the area on their right did not seem to be densely populated with trees. On their left, the remains of what possibly could have been a hall was visible. Up ahead, their path wound upwards, the incline enough to keep travelers from exerting too much effort in climbing up.

Eventually, Duncan and the woman reached a wooden gate, flanked by two armed men. The men greeted the newcomers and granted them entry into the area, where a handful of tents were set up. Several people from different races were there, each minding their own business. But as soon as the duo arrived, these people rushed in line and greeted them.

Duncan greeted back and spoke to them in such a calm yet confident (and commanding) manner that she would never forget.

> A commander? Perhaps.

She looked around and saw the men and women present. Some looked fresh—new recruits, perhaps—recently joined in the fray, had not probably experienced the chaos of battle; some were weathered and battle-worn, seasoned veterans who had seen lives lost in victory and in defeat. She also noticed a variety of age, race, and gender, which none seemed to matter in this group that they were a part of.

> But what is this group?
> 
> There’s no symbol or emblem around here. Not even a name.

But of course, her fascination was one-sided. The people she saw seemed to give her the side-eye; some, the stink-eye. It was as if they had seen someone—or something—that shouldn’t even be there in the first place. All at once, the people’s thoughts assaulted the woman; mostly about her appearance. Almost everything she heard in their minds were too vulgar and offensive, she tried ignoring them.

The woman was relieved as soon as she saw Duncan turn to her.

“I sense you have questions,” he started.

The woman simply nodded.

“Come with me.”

Duncan led the woman across the campsite. The path turned leftwards until the woman realized they were approaching the grounds of the fortress itself. Another gate, this time stationed with only one man, was opened for them to enter.

To her left, the woman noticed the very structure she saw earlier outside of camp. It did look like a hall from the outside, perhaps for meetings and other official gatherings. A bundle of trees stood almost in the middle of the area between her and the supposed hall, with a statue of a woman wielding a sword and several benches in front of it. Ahead of the two was a staircase leading towards an area.

> _Tents of the Circle Mages were set up on the other side of the path. Near the bridge, an open space was reserved for the Mages to meditate and contemplate._

> Wait; what?

The woman was startled with her unprecedented thought. She shook it off in order to continue with her survey.  
Duncan waved the woman over to follow him towards the steps on their right. The woman complied, seeing another gate to the right as she stepped down the stairs.

> To the Korcari Wilds.
> 
> But why didn’t we go through there?

The woman could only raise an eyebrow as she turned to follow Duncan towards what seemed like the ruins of a small gazebo. Within the broken pillars was a bonfire which seemed to have been constantly fed with wood to keep the flames from dying out. I was as if the bonfire had never been put out ever since.

The two stopped near the bonfire. Duncan turned to the woman, his hands clasped behind him.

“So, what do you wish to know?” Duncan asked.

“Those people,” the woman started. “They seemed to have something in common. Who are they?”

“I believe you mean, ‘Who are we,’” Duncan corrected. “We are the ones who rise when the shadows consume the lands. We are the ones who face the darkness when all else falls.”

The woman’s eyes widened, mouth agape. She easily caught on with his meaning. She slowly raised a finger, as if to try to point out what she thought she understood.

“Yes,” Duncan said, “We are those who stand against the darkspawn. As you said, we are the ones who are able to sense them, as they can sense us. We are immune to the taint, yet we can hear the Calling.” His head raised slightly, “We are the Grey Wardens.”

The woman mouthed a “What?” as she tried to tried to absorb this revelation. It was one thing to confirm a suspicion, but it was a whole different thing to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth.

> You’ve got to be kidding me.

“So, if you’re the Grey Wardens,” the woman slowly said, “Then you must be…”

Duncan nodded with a brow raised.

> The Commander of the Grey.

“Warden-Commander Duncan?”

Duncan and the woman turned to the voice. A blonde man with a weapon on his back stood just outside the pillars, left of the woman.

> A staff.

“Yes?” Duncan asked in reply.

“Some of the scouts have returned,” the man replied. “They are waiting in the Tower per your instructions.”

“Very well,” Duncan said with a nod. He turned to the woman. “I’m afraid I must leave you,” he told her. “I have important matters to attend to. But you must know that all these people here suspect you, no matter what you are. I suggest you behave. I will send someone to accompany you in the meantime.”

The woman nodded. Duncan turned to the man, who then gave a salute and left for the campsite they had passed by earlier. Duncan went towards the bridge for his business. The woman was left by the bonfire. Deciding that she might be staying there for a long time, the woman looked around. The statues within the ring of pillars caught her attention, but she resolved to just sit down on the ground. Seeing the nearest statue from where she stood, the woman sat just in front of the statue facing the bonfire. The blaze seemed to entrance her. She stared at the flames, gradually forgetting where she was and what time it was already.

The memories of the incident in the Wilds earlier also came gradually. The outnumbered duo, the massive opponents, the unprecedented magic that she apparently has. The latter made the woman wonder how she got such magic, let alone in a level where she could create a bridge made of ice. With that thought in mind, the woman then began to wonder if it was all a dream. And if it was, why did it seem so real?

> Magic.
> 
> Where did it come from?

The woman unconsciously stared at her hands—blankly, I might add—her mind seemingly lost in the void of her lost memories. She now realized she could not remember anything about herself before she was found in the Wilds.

A footstep on the ground caused the woman to let out a loud gasp, making her jump off her place to her right. Looking up, the woman saw another man who, like, Duncan, wielded two blades. A different pair of blades, she noted. As if an automatic response to stranger danger, the woman slowly and cautiously crawled back away from the man.

“Do not worry, I mean you no harm,” said the man. “You must be the woman Duncan found in the Wilds, I take it? I was sent by him to accompany you.”

The woman, slightly shaken, nodded slowly.

The man offered a hand to the woman to help her up; she reluctantly took it. She got up in his aid and dusted off the dirt from her tattered clothes.

> _Some burn marks and tears. It seems as though she was running away from something._

The man kept his distance as he watched the woman attempt to fix herself. “I am Riordan,” he said. “I was told by Duncan that you do not remember your name.”

“True,” the woman replied, meekly.

“Perhaps we shall talk about it later. Are you hungry?” he asked her.

“Uh…”

The two heard a faint growling noise. The woman raised her eyebrows. Then she realized the sound came from her.

This caused the man to laugh. “Come,” he said, “There is food prepared within the hall over there. We shall eat together, if you don’t mind having company.”

* * *

In the hall, a small gathering of people was at the end away from the valley when the two entered. Riordan went ahead, the woman tailing behind at a reasonable distance. She observed how he interacted with his fellow Grey Wardens.

> A loud dwarf.
> 
> A rather boyish woman.
> 
> An apparently old elf.
> 
> A wizened yet agile dwarf.
> 
> …wait a sec; two dwarves, huh?

The woman stifled a chuckle. Or at least tried to. She looked around within the vicinity and saw other Wardens doing what seemed like preparing for a small dinner.

> Hmm; I thought they’d have had their meal already. Waited for Duncan, perhaps?

Her pondering was cut short, however, as Riordan approached her.

“The meals have been prepared,” Riordan said. “Come; we shall sit there.”

“W—where’s Duncan?” the woman asked.

“He will arrive shortly,” Riordan replied. “He only had a small business to attend to. It shouldn’t take long.”

The Wardens gathered round the long table that was set up for their meal. It was nothing fancy; the table itself seemed to have been hurriedly made for the occasion, with plain blankets covering it so as to make their dinner seem a bit more appetizing. The food itself was of a typical type; mostly meat and cheese—wheels of cheese of different assortments that made the woman look twice.

> Cheese, huh? That’s a whole lot of them in one setting.

The woman followed Riordan to one side of the table. From where they were, the woman saw that they were facing the valley. She then saw some more of the Wardens arriving—Duncan finally came.

Duncan saw that the woman now had company. He approached Riordan with a short, indistinct chat, then joined in the fray, standing beside the woman opposite Riordan.

One of the Wardens offered a prayer for the meals, and everyone fell silent.

> I swear I can’t hear her from here. Simple prayer; can’t make out a single word. Am I really this deaf? What the fuck.

She then realized that everyone had just begun eating. Duncan held her shoulder. “Please, help yourself,” he said.

“Oh,” the woman nodded and took a large piece of meat. She was doubtful of her ability to consume all the food she took, but only did she realize how starved she was when she started eating. From there, the woman focused on the food, forgetting everything and everyone around her for the moment.

It was a supper filled with a slightly serious aura, but the people were unusually cheerful. Many of the men held drinking contests. Some women were gathered round for a casual chat. Other women were seen cleaning up the table. Some Wardens chose solitude, huddled at the side to rest while contemplating on their task.

Even then, the woman could not shake off the feeling of hostility. Needless to say, it was making her feel uncomfortable. Wanting to ignore everything else around her, the woman decided to try making something.

> A quill, perhaps? Hmm…

She closed her hands as if in prayer and focused on the space between them.

> An imagery of a bird’s feather should be enough.

She gasped when she noticed a glow within her closed hands. But the woman’s eyes widened when she realized that the light grew brighter, even Duncan and Riordan both noticed. She squinted from the brightness, in the attempt to see what she had created.

Just as Riordan turned to see where the light came from, he saw the woman carrying what seemed to be a large crystal blue feather between her palms. “What is that?” he asked the woman.

“Uh…” the woman chuckled nervously. “A quill?”

“A quill?”

“Yes, uh, a quill… pen,” the woman replied. She held the feather near the tip to demonstrate. “I just need some ink to try it out, though.”

“Here,” said a voice from the woman’s left. The woman turned to find Duncan handing over a bottle and a rolled piece of paper. “You may try it with these,” he continued.

“Uh… okay.” The woman took the items from Duncan and set the bottle beside her. The three were actually sitting by the bottom of the stairs of the round platform overlooking the valley. The moonlight was bright enough for a person to read something without the aid of a torch or a bonfire. Why they were sitting there, though, none can ever tell.

The woman carefully opened the ink bottle, then took a closer look at the quill’s nib. She could see fine details ornamenting the nib. Also checking the feather, itself, the woman saw how fine the barbs were, as well as how soft the afterfeather was that was faintly touching her hand. She dipped the nib to the ink and as she was about to starting writing, the woman froze.

> What the hell am I supposed to write, again?

Beside her, Riordan discreetly excused himself to talk to someone else. Duncan patiently observed the woman as she faced an internal struggle. After a while, the woman finally sighed and placed the quill on the parchment. Duncan watched her write something down.

> Marian.

The flowing handwriting gave Duncan the impression that the woman might have a rather fragile personality. The name, however, gave him the impression that she might be have a gender-neutral approach without losing the bit of femininity about her.

The woman looked at her handwriting.

> Not too bad.

“Hmm.” She took a closer look at her quill once more.

“That’s not bad,” Duncan commented.

The woman chuckled. “Really?” she asked.

“Uh-hmm. What you wrote, though, is that your name?”

“Uh…” the woman looked at the word. “No; I just wrote it down. A random thought, really.”

“I see,” the Duncan said, thinking.

Riordan arrived shortly. He noticed the name written on the paper. “Oh, so you’ve tried it already,” he said. “Is that your name?”

“No,” the woman replied. “You asked the same thing.”

Riordan chuckled and looked up to the sky. “I believe it’s about halfway till midnight,” he said. “I should head to my patrol. Good night, milady. Duncan.”

Duncan nodded and Riordan left. Then as if on cue, the woman let out a massive yawn.

“I should show you to your tent,” Duncan said.

“I have a tent?” the woman asked.

Duncan nodded. “I expected that you might have to stay here for a while. We will discuss about your situation tomorrow. For now, you need sleep.”

Duncan led the woman to her temporary shelter. It was a faded blue in color, located on the spot left of the stairway near the bonfire where Duncan left the woman earlier. When they stood in front of the tent, the woman suddenly had a flashback.

> The King’s tent.

“Is there something wrong?” Duncan asked.

“Huh? Oh, uh, no, no, not at all, ser,” the woman stammered.

“This will be where you sleep while you’re here,” Duncan said. “There are clothes inside, if you wish to change. I will be by the bonfire if you need anything.”

The woman took a peek inside the tent, then turned to Duncan. “Thank you, ser,” she said.

Duncan replied with a nod. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

The woman entered the tent. What she saw inside made her smirk with a shake of her head.

“They have all these in a tent?” she muttered with amusement.

A stack of clothes was placed on a bed. A small desk with a chair was situated near the bed. On the desk was a stack of parchments and what seemed to be like a quill holder. With her ice quill, rolled parchment, and bottle of ink on hand, the woman approached the desk and placed the items. She stared at the parchment, mentally debating whether or not she should write something down as a start. She then looked at the name she wrote earlier.

“Marian.”

* * *

The moon was shining above the fortress. Most of the Wardens had long retreated to their tents, deep in slumber. Only a few, including Riordan, remained awake, in vigilance. He had been planning to ask Duncan about the woman, and whether or not he had plans on discovering her identity and origins. Surely, she was a threat and a liability; but the Wardens were not exactly the type to jump into conclusions. Even Duncan himself would search for answers personally before making a decision. Riordan took a mental note to try and join in any discussion about the woman by sunrise.

Duncan had been standing by the bonfire, staring into the flames in deep contemplation. He had too many things to think about; now he had another burden to carry. But he had already considered that the woman might not be as burdensome as he expected her to be. In fact, she had proven to be a potentially valuable ally when the need arises. He just had to keep in mind that the woman obviously had no experience in warfare; she still needed to be taught how to fight.

> _This will be a challenge._

Duncan let out a deep sigh and retreated to his tent.

* * *

  
The woman was woken up by the noises outside. Groaning in discomfort, she got up from bed and scratched her head.

> What the fuck is going on out there? Sheesh; can’t they let someone sleep?!

The woman then realized something.

> Wait; I’m not in Ostagar, am I?

She scrambled off the bed and prepared herself in haste. She checked the desk and saw that the quill she made last night was still intact—and not melting. She sighed upon seeing it and sat down the chair to put on her boots. 

The woman got out of her tent and looked around. She saw that the Wardens were busy. Most of them were carrying crates and sacks; whatever was in them, the woman never knew. She took a peek at the bonfire from where she stood but saw no sign of Duncan or Riordan. Clad in a dress with a skirt’s length just below the knees, the woman decided to check around for any news. She found herself walking straight into the hall where they had supper the night before.

As she was walking along, the woman turned to her right. She looked at the empty space between the bridge and the hall.

> Two or three tents were for the Circle mages. A locked chest was between two of them.

The woman halted briefly on the thought and resumed walking. As she reached the hall, two Wardens were exiting the place, one was carrying a small sack. They were chatting along, minding their business, the empty-handed Warden acknowledged the woman with a nod, in which the latter did the same in response.

When she entered the hall, the woman realized the place was empty. Even the table used last night was gone. She turned to the circular platform to her right, the same spot where she sat near Duncan and Riordan after supper. She saw no signs of occupancy there, so she decided to go to the place. She sat at the edge of the platform overlooking the valley. From there, she watched the people crossing the bridge and treading the valley.

* * *

It was probably two hours before noon, judging by the sun, when the woman decided to return to the tent. As she left the hall, she noticed that there were fewer people left within the premises. By the time she went past the passage to the outside camps, however, the woman noticed two men standing outside her tent. It seemed to be Riordan talking to another Grey Warden… and they seemed pretty pissed off. She cautiously approached the two.

“Have you asked the others?” Riordan was heard asking the other Warden.

“Yes, but none of them saw her leave,” the Warden replied. As he turned his head, he saw the woman coming. “Oh, here she comes.”

Riordan turned to the woman’s direction. “Maker’s breath, where have you been?” he asked her.

The woman pointed towards the hall with her thumb. “I was looking at the bridge and the valley from there,” she said.

Riordan sighed in exasperation. “Perhaps next time you should leave a note. At least to not let us worry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Anyways,” Riordan turned to the other Warden and said, “I apologize for wasting your time. You may go.”

“Not a problem,” the Warden replied, and with a nod he left.

Riordan then turned to the woman. “Now, Duncan had asked me to fetch you. Have you had your breakfast already?”

The woman pursed her lips.

“Come,” Riordan said. “We must return to Duncan at once.”

The two crossed the bridge in silence. Riordan’s pace seemed longer and slightly aggressive. The woman tried catching up without a word. She knew that both him and Duncan were not happy with her so-called disappearance. Finding the silent treatment overwhelming, the woman decided to try asking Riordan of Duncan’s intent of seeing her.

“Where do we go?” the woman asked, doubtful of Riordan’s possible reaction. As she expected, Riordan did not respond. He continued with his pace.

> I’ll take it as a reply, then. I’m guessing… the Tower of Ishal?

  
The two remained silent throughout their walk. When they stopped by the door to the tower, Riordan turned to the woman.

“He will most likely ask of your whereabouts, so I expect you to answer truthfully,” he said. “He had already gotten in his way to keep everyone here from attacking you. Do not make matters worse, do you understand?”

The woman gulped. “Yes, ser.”

Riordan opened the door. “Enter.”

Riordan and the woman stepped into the tower. When they entered the circular room in the middle of the floor, the woman looked around and saw that it was empty. Empty, in the sense of not having any furniture anywhere that would make for a simple meeting place. There were still people inside, however, moving about in their own errands.

“Where is Duncan?” the woman asked her companion.

“At the top floor,” was Riordan’s reply. He gestured to her to proceed.

The woman gave a nod and walked ahead. To her surprise, though, she went about the place as if she had been there before.

> The door to the left. Turn right until the door at the end of the hall. Enter, turn right. Enter, climb the stairs.

Riordan simply followed the woman she went on, quietly observing her actions, hopefully catching even just a glimpse of her thoughts. The people they passed by simply stepped aside or remained in their business, glancing at the woman, some merely sensing her presence as the two moved along. Again, the aura of hostility seemed to remain, but the woman tried to keep her composure in check.

Unfazed by the tower’s floor plan, the woman proceeded all the way through to the top, Riordan tagging along. He didn’t seem surprised by the woman’s knowledge of the tower; he seemed more observant, if anything. Keeping his thoughts to himself, Riordan followed the woman. He took note of how she managed to reach the stairs leading up to the next level without asking for any directions.

When they reached the top floor, Riordan and the woman found Duncan with a small group of Grey Wardens gathered around a table. They were discussing over something that the woman couldn’t seem to understand.

> Oh, I get it. Speaking in a foreign language, I see.

Duncan noticed their arrival. “They are finally here,” he said. “Come.”

Riordan held the woman’s shoulder. The woman looked to him, who gave her a nod, then approached Duncan.

“So, this is the one you spoke of?” inquired one of the Wardens.

Duncan nodded. “There were no signs of her origins from where I found her. It may take some time to find them if we try.”

“But how will we know if she does come from here or not?” asked another.

“We don’t,” was Duncan’s brief reply. “As long as her memories are irretrievable, we cannot know for certain where she came from, or even how she got there.”

“You said something about her having random memories, so to speak,” said the third Warden. “What say you on that?”

“It is also something worth noting,” Duncan said. “But again, it will take some time to verify them.”

“Surely it does,” commented the first Warden, “considering her claim is a heavy one.”

> What claim?

The woman’s brows furrowed. The third Warden subtly took notice. The woman then caught sight of a dagger struck on a spot of a map that was spread on the table. The shape of the nearby lake gave her an easy hint.

> Ferelden?

She then noticed that the dagger was struck on what turned out to be the location of Ostagar itself. A small pin-like object was struck on another spot, north of the lake.

> Orzammar. Wait; that’s the dwarven kingdom, isn’t it?

The woman was so focused on the map that she had basically ignored the Wardens’ dialog altogether. She was actually seeing lines—broken and solid—tracing all over the map, as if they were routes made by a traveler. It started with a line connecting Ostagar and a village in the north called Lothering, which was then connected to a location south of the lake: Redcliffe, which was then connected to another location—this to the north of the lake—bearing the name Circle Tower. The solid lines continued to connect other places in the map which the woman found rather overwhelming. Then the woman saw broken lines connecting some of these locations to the remote spots in the map. The chaotic nature of these connecting lines almost made the woman feel dizzy, if it wasn’t for her somewhat attentive trait. At the end of the messy trace of routes, a single solid line connected to the city at the east of the map.

> Denerim.
> 
> Hmm, I wonder what’s in there.

“…if she would agree.”

Eventually, the woman’s daydreaming was cut short. The woman looked a Duncan and his company. “Huh?” she asked. “Oh, uh, I’m sorry; I was looking at the map.”

“We were considering having you sent to the Circle Tower,” said one of the unnamed Wardens.

“For the time being, of course,” Duncan added. “I’m afraid no one can train you in dealing with magic better than the mages in the Circle Tower.”

“You’re sending me to Kinloch Hold?” the woman asked abruptly.

The other Wardens turned to Duncan with a concealed inquiry. Duncan merely replied with a look.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” the woman shuffled a correction. “It’s not like I don’t want to; I’m just… well… I don’t mind, really.”

“Are you sure?” Riordan asked. “Most mages we know do not wish to be sent there.”

“As long as I have a place to stay, I don’t mind,” the woman replied. “Besides, I don’t think you guys would want a useless non-Warden tagalong while chasing darkspawn, right? Right?”

This caused the Grey Wardens to laugh. “Surely, you are too innocent,” said the dark-haired unnamed Warden.

“Or naïve,” said the light-haired unnamed Warden. “But still, if you agree, it shall be decided.”

The woman turned to Duncan. “It is your choice,” he said.

The woman turned to the map. She then puffed a sigh and said, “All right, then. It can’t be _that_ bad.”


	4. Advent

The woman returned to her tent after a hearty meal. Well, hearty, because she did not receive a sermon from either Duncan or Riordan. Luckily for her, the two Wardens were understanding. They knew that a naïve amnesiac like her would most likely wander off to Maker knows where. They only asked her to at least leave a note before she would leave next time.

The woman approached her desk and still found her ice quill intact, with no signs of melting. The used parchment with the name written on it was still on top of the pile. The woman sat in front of the desk to try figuring out what she needed to do.

> Packing up is not the option for now. They’re giving me three days to rest. Then I’ll start packing.

The woman stared at the name.

“Marian. Cool name.”

* * *

“What do you think we should do, Duncan?” Riordan asked. The two were standing by the edge of one of the tower platforms overlooking the area in front of Ostagar.

“We may ask her to prepare an alias, for us to address her by name,” Duncan replied, still looking at the view. “We shall not enforce one to her.”

“Hmm,” Riordan held his chin, thinking. “That name she wrote.”

“What of it?”

“Do you think it could be a clue? Perhaps she might be able to remember something from it.”

“Whatever that was, Riordan, we cannot be certain as of yet. As I said, we shall not enforce one to her. I’m sure she is thinking of an alias now.”

With that, Duncan left. Riordan remained, pondering about the woman.

Well, that, and it was his post to keep watch.

* * *

The woman had been sitting in front of the desk for what might have been two hours past already. She sighed, realizing that she had nothing else to do but wait.

“What am I supposed to do now?” she groaned. She jumped onto her makeshift bed instead, trying to make herself comfy like a cat. But the moment she closed her eyes, the woman suddenly remembered the incident in the Wilds.

> The sword. The shield.
> 
> Hey… what if I try it again?

The woman quickly got out of bed and stood in the middle of the open space in the tent. With a bit pf of concentration, she managed to recreate the sword and shield like the last time. She raised the sword at eye level, pointing towards her side. She then placed the sword on the bed and checked on the shield.

“Huh, this certainly looks authentic,” the woman said, noting the pattern on the shield’s surface. She placed the shield next to the sword and stepped back to take a look at the weapons. “Hmm…”

The woman stepped back from the bed and stretched out her arms to the side, her hands barely clutched, as if holding something invisible. With a sigh, she felt the cold aura emanating from her palms. In a mere moment, she created a pair of daggers—one from each hand—made of ice. Satisfied with the result, the woman placed the daggers next to the sword and went back to position. This is time, her hands were positioned as if she was carrying a long stick. She did the same thing as before, and a staff appeared before her. As she did with the previous weapons, she placed the staff on the bed. She paused for a moment to think.

“What else, what else?”

The woman gasped as the idea came to her. Her arms now outstretched in front of her, the woman positioned as if holding a great sword. And a great sword she did create, and it joined the rest of her creations.

“Um… so, what do I do?”

She stared at the weapons laid on the bed before her. After a while of thinking, the woman smirked in a somewhat sinister manner.

“I have an idea.”

* * *

The woman peeked out from her tent. She saw what remained of the Grey Wardens go about.

> Ooh… few enough for me to sneak out unnoticed.
> 
> Tee-hee.

The woman, as quietly as she could, slipped out of her tent, apparently with nothing to carry. Like a spoiled outgoing brat, she snuck out of the area, successfully getting out of the Wardens’ campsite without causing a fuss. But instead of going down the slope that led back to the valley, the woman went further north of the fortress, past some tress until she could barely see anyone from where she stood. There, she recreated daggers she made back in her tent.

“I’ve got an idea.”

She made more of the daggers and sought for a wider, older tree to use as a bullseye for target practice. When she found one, she sought for a decent angle, enough that she won’t be easily seen from the camp yet still able to see the Wardens from her spot. She took one of the daggers and held it like a throwing dagger. She warmed up with it, practicing her aim, and when she felt ready to go, the woman threw the dagger towards the trunk.

> Pleasedon’tmisspleasedon’tmisspleasedon’tmisspleasedon’tmisspleasedon’tmisspleasedon’tmi—

The woman gasped when she heard the sound of the blade striking the trunk. The dagger barely missed the tree.

> Ooh… shit I did it, oh shit I did it, oh shit I fucking did it! Woo!

The woman chuckled as she went to the tree to grab the dagger. She decided to try it a few more times before going back to the tent.

Fortune seemed to have favored the woman as she reckoned more successes in her attempts; she struck the trunk more times than she missed it.

> Not bad for a newbie.

The woman heard a rustling of the leaves from her left. She quickly set herself in defensive stance, cautiously looking around to search for the culprit.

> Come out, come out, wherever you are, you asshole.

The woman faintly felt the sensation of something coming towards her from behind. Tempted to turn abruptly, the woman kept still, still gripping on the daggers. When she felt the stranger within an arm’s reach from her, the woman swiftly turned to her back, swinging the dagger directly towards what she thought would be the intruder’s neck. But once she saw the intruder, however, the woman paused, well enough that her dagger’s tip was merely a grain of salt away from her target’s throat.

“Whoa, lady!” yelped the stranger. Well, judging on his outfit, he was not exactly a stranger; he was also a Grey Warden. He also had auburn hair, looking like a crew cut.

> Wait; a crew cut? Does that even exist here?

“What in the world are you doing here, mister?” the woman queried with threat.

“I could ask you the same thing. You do know that Duncan did not allow anyone to leave the fortress’ premises without his permission, right?”

The woman merely raised a brow.

“So, you do know.” The man then tried to reposition himself to feel a bit more comfortable, considering his predicament. “Well, if you would just take your dagger away from my throat, we might be able to talk things properly.”

“And how am I supposed to believe you?” the woman asked, not budging.

“Look; I’m sorry I snuck up on you, but at least consider…”

> _This is what I get from following Riordan’s orders. ‘Follow her,’ he said. ‘It will be fine,’ he said. ‘She’s not going to harm you,’ he said._

“Oh, really, huh?”

The man halted from his ramblings with confusion. “What?”

“Riordan told you to follow me. Did he not?”

Well, I—”

“A simple yes or no will suffice, ser.”

“Yes. Now, will you take your dagger off me?”

The woman smirked as she pulled away from the man. The Warden puffed in relief as he straightened himself up, looking to give a proper introduction.

“You can tell Riordan I’m just throwing ice-make daggers to a tree, ser, if that would satisfy his concern,” the woman nonchalantly told him. “If anything, I have plenty of reasons why I snuck out of Ostagar and running away from the Grey Wardens isn’t one of them.”

The man was caught off guard by her statement. But before he could say a word, someone stepped out from another side of the area.

“I believe there is no need, milady.”

“Can you please stop calling me that?!” the woman yelled in frustration. She and the Warden saw Riordan approach them.

“Now, now, I’m sure Duncan heard you,” Riordan said. “We’re not risking any darkspawn today or any other day. But ‘going out for some fresh air’ isn’t exactly a good reason, let alone a legitimate one to try and sneak out of Ostagar, is it not?”

The woman looked to the ground like a kid being scolded by an angry parent. She sighed heavily to shake off the guilt she was starting to feel.

“No matter,” Riordan continued. “Duncan wanted to know if you are willing to learn how to fight.”

The woman abruptly looked at Riordan. “Did he really?”

“Yes,” Riordan replied, “and he wanted to know if you also wanted to have a weapon for your own, so you don’t have to make one every time.”

“She can make one?” asked the auburn-haired Warden.

Turning to him, Riordan replied, “Yes, in her own way. You’d wonder if any mage had ever tried what she did, even for once.”

> I’m sure Riordan’s up to something else.

The woman observed the two Wardens as they continued talking. It almost felt like they had ignored her completely, until the woman made an audible sound of clearing her throat to catch their attention. The two Wardens stopped talking and turned to her.

“I believe you’re here for a reason,” the woman said, “and I bet it’s not to spy on me.”

“Oh, no, that’s not our reason,” said Riordan. “Duncan simply tasked us to keep an eye on you.”

“Sounds like spying.”

“It’s actually ensuring your safety without having to be too close in proximity.”

“All right, then. Stalking.”

Riordan sighed. “Okay; Duncan actually tasked me to teach you the basics in self-defense. Asked, to be quite honest. And my fellow Warden here is just supposed to assist me in such.”

“Uh… you know, you could have just told me in the first place. Besides, there really wasn’t any reason for me to sneak out if you just told me.” The woman emphasized on the last few words. She then sighed with a roll of her eyes.

“I suggest we should return,” said the other Warden. “Duncan might be looking for us, Riordan.”

“Wait,” Riordan said with a raised of his hand. He then looked around. “This is actually a good training spot.” He turned to the woman. “You despise being watched by people when doing something, am I correct?”

The woman answered with a nod.

> Seriously; what’s with people and turning around? Do Thedosians love to dance everywhere? Sheesh.

…wait. “Thedosians”?

But Riordan and his companion were already discussing about their training plan for the woman. Once they were done, Riordan approached the woman.

“First, we want to know which weapon you’re most comfortable with,” Riordan started.

The woman stared at her daggers. “Uh…”

The auburn-haired Warden stepped forth. “Perhaps we should begin with—”

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” the woman interrupted. “Uh, wait. Uh…”

The woman crafted a longsword and a shield. The unnamed Warden was taken aback; clearly, he did not expect to witness the answer he was seeking to be revealed before him. “What about these?” she asked.

“Are you sure you prefer those?” Riordan asked.

The woman shrugged. “Well, I did use a similar set when Duncan and I fought the darkspawn yesterday. Or I mean Warden-Commander Duncan! Sorry.”

The auburn-haired Warden shook his head to bring him back to reality and cleared his throat. “So, that should mean you could potentially be a warrior,” he said in a serious tone.

“Does it matter?” the woman asked.

“Never mind what I said.”

“Anyway,” Riordan said. “If you are comfortable with those, then so be it. We may go easy on you since it is your first time, I would assume, but your training will be as difficult as it should be. Nothing is ever easy, as I’m sure you’ve already learned.”

The woman simply nodded. Riordan nodded back.

“Good. Then, we should begin.”

* * *

The woman spent the whole afternoon being trained by Riordan. A few Grey Wardens occasionally assisted him, each of different classes and techniques. The woman, of course, managed to pass, albeit barely. Nonetheless, her endurance and determination to learn impressed the Wardens involved with her training (Riordan included).

Meanwhile, Duncan had been busy since the meeting in the Tower. Out doing his usual business, the Warden-Commander personally made sure that no darkspawn would ever stray near the fortress, with the woman still within its premises. He also wanted to disprove his doubt of the creatures increasing in numbers on the surface. The last thing he wanted would be the Fifth Blight kicking in. He might even have to go somewhere if necessary. Whatever he was doing while he away, Duncan would not return until shortly before sundown.

The sun was threatening to hide behind the mountains that surrounded the fortress when Riordan decided to call it a day. By that time, it was only him and the woman at the same spot where the latter was throwing daggers earlier. Riordan led on, as the woman trailed behind, letting her weapons vanish as if she merely summoned them. The two chatted casually about the training itself; it was the only thing the woman wanted to talk about, anyway. There had been attempts in discovering her other interests in their conversations during the training, but she either got excited with talking about darkspawn and fighting or became disinterested when asked about her preferences in men. Riordan could not help but be amused by her unusual interest. All in all, he would still have to report everything to Duncan.

By nightfall, the Wardens did basically the same thing as the previous night. Supper, a time to relax and chat over petty topics, Duncan and Riordan still entertaining the woman’s inquiries. This time though, the two were answering questions about their selves, how they met and what brought them to the Order. But everything the two men have told her seemed to sound so familiar to the woman, she could have sworn she would have said she knew it… if she actually did know. The woman found herself feeling a bit out of place again, so she excused herself from her companions and went for her tent.

When she entered her tent, the woman found herself heading straight to her desk. Again, the parchment with the name was still on it, apparently untouched since she occupied the tent. The woman thought of sitting down and try writing something else—perhaps a record of her time in the fortress—but felt more compelled to go to sleep.

> Maybe I’m just tired from the training. Heh; sleep, I shall.

The woman prepped herself up to sleep. Upon resting her head, she listened to the sounds from the outside. She could still hear the Wardens getting busy; whatever they were doing was none of her business. The chatter and the noises from the outside were faint enough for the woman to sleep easy. She closed her eyes, feeling content with how the day was spent.

* * *

> Flames.
> 
> Clouds of dust.
> 
> Everything’s a blur.
> 
> Broken buildings.
> 
> Debris, debris everywhere.
> 
> Everything and everyone scattered everywhere.
> 
> What is going on here?
> 
> Screams of people.
> 
> Fear… and pain.
> 
> The air reeks of death.

The woman walked on. All she could see were ruins of buildings that seemed to have been recently destroyed, corpses of people who were either mutilated or slain clean, random objects strewn all over the place. The woman decided to look for survivors… and seek for answers.

But then, as she pressed on, the woman found the air becoming denser and foggier, making it difficult for her to see ahead and breathe. Eventually the wind blew, making the situation even more challenging; there was no way she would be able to get past this.

> What the fuck’s going on here?

The woman halted, trying to gather herself, hoping that the wind would stop. And as if on cue, the wind did die down, and the woman then noticed a blurred dot of light up ahead. She then tried to get to that light. She saw the light gradually glow brighter and brighter, while it also rose higher. The woman stopped once she saw what looked like a huge pile of debris, possibly from a collapsed building. The air was a lot less foggy than earlier, but everything still looked like a blur. The woman looked up to the summit of this pile and saw what could have been a figure of a person standing on top. She noticed that one hand looked like a claw, and that only one shoulder seemed to have an armor piece on it. Other than those, the figure was difficult to determine in terms of the stranger’s age, gender, and age. The figure was merely a silhouette, emphasized by the greenish light coming from behind.

The woman was determined to discover this stranger’s identity, but the wind kept her from succeeding. It was as if this stranger used the wind as concealment. The wind grew stronger, the dust made everything look foggier, and the woman now found it too difficult to breathe. She tried to get out of this tempest, screaming in the attempt. She was lost.

* * *

The woman gasped as she opened her eyes. She saw the familiar cloth of the tent’s roof directly above her. She turned her head to check on one side; she saw the same objects that were in the tent when she went inside. She then breathed slowly to bring her heartbeat to its normal pace. She closed her eyes, wondering what just happened.

> Just a dream. It was only just a dream.
> 
> But where was that?

The woman sighed and turned to the side to try and go back to sleep. She was too tired and sleepy to even wish that the dream would not return. She just wanted to sleep.

It was a fairly overcast day, it was not bright, but not too gloomy. The air was cool, a breeze visiting the fortress’ premises to carry the warm air out.

A female Grey Warden with her dark hair tied to a ponytail was carrying a piece of bread and an equally sized slice of cheese. Not that it was Duncan’s orders, it was her initiative since hearing about the strange woman’s feats from her auburn-haired fellow Warden.

The Warden approached the tent. “Hello?” she called in. “I brought you breakfast. You might want to have them now.”

“Breakfast?!” the woman’s head suddenly popped out of the tent. She then saw the Warden and the food. “Whoa.” She took a long sniff to savor the freshly baked bread’s aroma. “Wait; let me get dressed first.”

“Uh, all right,” the Warden replied, confused by the woman’s reaction. She heard the shuffling of objects inside, then footsteps. When the woman came back out, the Warden handed the food over.

“So, where do you wish to have them?” the Warden asked.

The woman thought for a moment. “Hmm… I guess anywhere overlooking the south would be good.”

The Warden smiled. “Come, I know just the place.”

* * *

The two ladies sat along the edge of a tower facing the mountain. The woman stuffed herself with the bread and cheese while her Warden companion watched her with amusement.

> _She does seem outlandish. How will Duncan find any clues of her origins, then?_

The woman seemed too occupied with her eating. After a few gulps and a short-lived choke, the woman finally turned to the Warden. “So, why did you want to accompany me here?” she asked.

“My curiosity took the better of me,” the dark-haired Warden replied. “Word had spread amongst my fellow Wardens of your feats. I wanted to see things for myself.”

“Well, as long as you won’t demand that I do something,” the woman said. “I’d feel pretty uncomfortable.”

“Let me guess, either your magic won’t work properly or it won’t come out.”

“Either… or both. You decide.”

The female Warden laughed. “Well, while you’re here, no one will force you,” she said. “Especially while the Warden-Commander is eager to find answers.”

“Answers? About what?”

“About you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You are an enigma. Your mere presence seems to disturb the essences of time and space. We are unsure of what to make of you.”

The Warden proceeded to explain to the still nameless woman how some Grey Wardens believed that the latter might have disrupted some of the hidden forces at work. Of course, the woman proceeded to ask whatever the Warden was talking about, but the answers were mostly obscure, a bit dubious.

> What the heck is this woman talking about?

But the female Warden clarified that everything she said were still speculation, and that the Warden-Commander was supposed to deal with it as some sort of side quest. The Warden then apologized for bombarding the woman with unnecessary things and offered to train her for the day as compensation.

“I’ve got to tell Riordan, though,” the woman said.

“I will go tell him myself,” the Warden said. “You prepare yourself for the time being. It may be a long day ahead.”

The woman watched the Warden leave. About her was a sense of grace that seemed common amongst mages. She could not tell because this person was unarmed.

> Perhaps I’ll find out later, then.

The woman then returned to her tent.

The woman scampered into her tent. She rushed into the chest that contained her clothes, tossing the clothes behind her as she hastily searched for a decent outfit. Not she was scared the Warden might punish her if she’s late, the woman just wanted to get dressed quickly so that she could do a bit of a pep talk before meeting up with her new trainer.

“All right! I can do this… right? Right?”

The woman made a fake smile that oozed with doubt and undeniable concern.

> Why am I worried now? I’ve been trained by multiple Wardens in a day, and now I’m worried? It’s not like there’s going to be a duel, right?
> 
> Right?

A sudden realization hit the woman like a dragon swooping down at her with a horned headbutt.

“Naw; she just offered to train me, is all.”

The woman shrugged off her doubts and tied her hair into a ponytail. Realizing that it had grown too long for such hairstyle, she decided to tie it into a bun after finding a piece of thin rope long enough to hold her hair in place. After checking the bun’s durability by moving around vigorously, the woman then decided to leave the tent. Upon reaching the exit, she froze.

> Should I have my weapons now or no? Now? No?
> 
> …nah.

The woman shrugged and left.

Just as she got out of her tent, the woman was greeted by the same auburn-haired Warden who “spied” on her the day before.

“Ah, there you are!” he called. “Here.”

He handed her a piece of paper. But before the woman could even ask what it was for, the Warden was gone. She simply sighed as she read the message on the paper.

> “Meet me at the valley.”
> 
> What for? Meh.

The woman decided to proceed to the valley.

When she reached the valley, the woman saw a group of people gathered up ahead, near the open area in front of the fortress. “What the heck’s going on?” she asked as she continued to walk. She already saw some more people heading towards this gathering.

> Are those Grey—of course those are Grey Wardens, idiot! Who else lives here?

The woman facepalmed, still walking towards the crowd. By the time she crossed under the bridge, she heard the indistinct chatter coming from the Wardens. They seemed to be gathered for a show.

> A live show?
> 
> …that sounded gross for a moment.

Upon reaching the Wardens, the woman started looking for her trainer for the day.

> She must be watching as well. Maybe the training starts after this. I wonder what’s going to happen here.

The woman looked around but saw no sign of the Warden she sought after.

“Where is she?” she mumbled.

“Oi! There she is!”

The woman gasped, as if her cover was blown. But she was never hiding from anything or anyone at all. The woman then realized everyone was looking at her. She raised her eyebrows and pointed at herself.

“Me?”

“Yes, you! Come ‘ere; we’ve been waiting for you!” called out the same voice she heard earlier, coming from a dark-haired (and dark-bearded) dwarf with a hammer on his back.

The other Wardens, especially those near her, cheered the woman on. The woman then reluctantly approached the dwarf, who was accompanied by the auburn-haired Warden and the female Warden whom she was looking for. Now feeling uncomfortable, the woman walked in a slow pace, like a person randomly chosen as suspect for a crime she did not commit. The Wardens might have been cheering her on, but they didn’t exactly sound like a mob of people cheering over a lowtown fight or something. They’re just many enough to be loud.

The woman approached the female Warden. “What’s going on here?” she asked the latter.

“Oh, this?” the female Warden chuckled. “We’ll be sparring here.”

“In front of them?” the woman asked, pointing at the ‘audience’ with her thumb.

“You won’t always be fighting alone,” said the female Warden. “There will be times when you’ll be fighting in front of a crowd. You should get used to it.”

“Ouch.” The woman mockingly placed her hand on her heart, as if she was pierced by a spear.

“Is everyone here?” the auburn-haired Warden asked to his fellows. Where are the others?”

“On their way,” shouted one of the Wardens at the left.

The woman watched everyone gathered around. As much as she’d like to believe this might have been one of their pastime, the woman could not shake off the thought that this was unusual.

> A Warden sparring with her trainee in front of a crowd.
> 
> Seriously; if that is not unusual, I don’t know what that is. What the fuck’s going on here?

The woman turned her head and caught sight of Duncan and Riordan approaching.

“Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh, what?” asked the dwarf Warden.

“Huh? Oh, uh, I mean,” the woman cleared her throat. “Here comes the Warden-Commander.”

The dwarf turned to acknowledge his leader’s presence. The rest seemed to follow suit, and everything seemed ready. They were waiting for him, of course. The dwarf made an apparently exaggerated announcement about the so-called event that was about to take place. But at the moment he said the word ‘duel,’ the woman jerked a reaction.

“A duel?!”

The auburn-haired Warden shushed her down. The dwarf continued yapping about.

> Yup, typical dwarven attitude.

The woman was then nudged by her female companion, who was now carrying what she assumed was the latter’s weapon.

> A staff?
> 
> She’s a mage?!

The female Warden smiled at the woman, then turned to continue listening to the talking dwarf.

After what felt like hours had passed, the dwarf finally stopped talking and called the woman over. Eyebrows raised, the woman faced the dwarf.

“Where’s yer weapon, lass?” he asked.

“Oh, uh, wait,” the woman rubbed her palms together like a freezing person trying to keep himself warm. In her practiced pose, she created her favorite weapons, causing a wave of oohs and ahs from the audience.

> Oh, come on, you guys; this is embarrassing already…

The woman ignored the crowd. She waited for the dwarf’s signal to start. She watched him position into a defensive stance. And paused. Everyone fell quiet. The sound of the breeze was the only thing heard at that moment. The woman kept her eyes on the dwarf, thinking that he might charge at the moment she took her gaze off him. At the corner of her eyes, the woman saw a glimpse of the female Warden, also in a stance, waiting for the fight to commence.

> Why is everyone still? No one’s moving.
> 
> No, wait a second.
> 
> THAT ASSHOLE!

The woman quickly turned around, shield in front of her, as she saw the auburn-haired Warden charge towards her. His broadsword gleamed as he swung it towards her, only to miss its target and stick the sword to the ground when the woman quickly sidestepped him. And as if to add insult to injury, at the exact moment the charging Warden was in line with her, the woman grabbed him by the collar and tossed him to the ground. The Warden met the ground face-first, enabling a fit of laughter from the crowd. The woman was confused by what just happened. Obviously, she had no idea what she just did, not even how she did it. She turned to her right and saw the Warden-Commander and his friend sitting quietly, focused on the fight. She turned back to the fallen Warden, only to find the dwarf almost bashing her with the hammer if she didn’t conjure a blast of air at him. The said blast caused her to fly backwards, though, well enough for an escape yet still far from those who watched.

> Please don’t tell me the mage is gonna—

On cue came the fire blast, courtesy of the female Warden.

“Grr, oh, come on! Really?! A handicap match?!” the woman yelled as she regained her composure. It was her turn.

The auburn Warden was helped up by the dwarf after the woman made her escape. He then charged again towards their common enemy, this time making sure she could not evade him. But just as he was a few steps closer to the woman, the mage Warden called out to him, causing the auburn Warden to halt. The dwarf proceeded, only to be blasted back by a stone fist. The woman was seen holding her left arm, hand clenched in a fist. The woman then recreated her weapons of choice and charged towards the nearest Warden, followed by a flurry of attacks.

* * *

The clashing of blades, the grunts and pants, and the sounds of the elements echoed across the fortress as this three-on-one continued. The Grey Wardens seemed to enjoy this show. But keep in mind, this was not a common activity for them. At least not at this scale. Hell; even that outnumbered woman was not normal. At least they’re entertained, right?

Riordan was secretly rooting for the woman. Mostly because he saw the potential in her, partly because he enjoyed watching her beating the crap out of the auburn-haired Warden, who seemed to have become a laughingstock throughout the whole thing. Yet, like Duncan, he was quiet the whole time; only his facial expressions gave away his thoughts about this fight.

> _She would be a great addition to the Order here in Ferelden. I wonder why Duncan has not spoken a word of it._

Riordan could sense his friend’s silence beside him. The whole time, Duncan watched the woman as she fought three of the best members of the Order. Thus far, the two men had seen that the woman could clearly fend for herself should she end up being alone.

* * *

The fight dragged on. The four competitors were already gasping for breath, sweaty and covered with dirt, bruises, wounds, and burns like well-coated, marinated slices of meat ready for frying. Their armor partially damaged, the wood, metal, and ice chipped, they were all thinking the same thing:

> Let’s put an end to this already, dammit!

The trio quietly, subtly, gave each other instructions to, well, triple-team their sole opponent. The dwarf gripped on his hilt. The human male flexed his arms. The female mage brushed her loose hair back. One would think they were just loosening their selves up to release some extra tension from them.

But the woman knew better. She stayed in place, still holding her sword and shield. When her opponents surrounded her from afar, the woman struck the tip of her shield to the ground, causing it to melt. She then enchanted her blade, apparently resorting to it as her final weapon. She kept still on her stance, waiting for them to attack.

The wind blew into the valley. Those that watched were now silent. Some wondered if any one of them would surrender; some expected a death in the field. One Warden expressed disappointment with where the fight was heading.

“Bollocks; when’s they gonna start stabbing each other again?”

The grumbling Warden’s attention, however, was caught by a sudden movement.

A dagger flew from out of nowhere, the woman as its target. Immediately the woman parried the dagger; to her right she caught sight of the dwarf running towards her. When the woman turned to her left, she saw the mage casting a buff to herself as she sprinted towards her. Behind, the auburn-haired Warden was charging with his two swords.

> Well, fuck.

At the moment the three were within three arms’ length from her, the woman knelt down to one knee, the fingers of her right hand barely touching the ground, her eyes closed. Her opponents within two arm’s length, she kept still.

> I hope this works.

Her opponents were now within one arm’s length. The woman then quickly opened her eyes. She thrusted her hand, fingers-first into the ground. The ground rumbled. In a split second, the three Wardens flew away from her; each of the three were blasted off by a life-sized boulder that rose from the ground. Up into the sky they flew, only to land on a magically crafted pool on top of each of these earthen pillars when they fell.

The audience rose from their seats upon witnessing the feat. All minds were filled with concern over their fellows that took part in the fight. The murmuring grew. Duncan finally stood, fixated on the woman. Riordan was compelled to run towards her, but then decided against it. She was not moving, surrounded by three pillars of rock and her head facing up.

* * *

“Ow…”

The mage Warden groaned as she got up. She then realized that she was already wet from the pool of water she found herself in and saw that she was about in line with the top grounds of the fortress. She cautiously crawled out of the pool and found herself looking down the edge, atop a tall tower of rock. Not too far from her place were her fellow Wardens, who were also looking around them in confusion.

“Maker’s breath! What just happened here?” yelled the auburn-haired Warden.

“Uh… uh-oh.”

The woman was still looking up. From afar, one would think she stood stiff as a stone. She was trying to find the tip of the rock pillars she tried to create. Apparently, they weren’t how she planned them to be.

> I bet they’re already cursing my name… or maybe my existence over this… mess.

The woman didn’t move the whole time until she heard someone call her.

“Are you all right?”

The woman shook her head and turned to the person. She saw Duncan and Riordan approach her.

“How in Thedas were you able to do this?” Riordan asked as he marveled the pillars up close.

The woman simply shrugged due to a lack of explanation.

Duncan looked up. “They’re still alive,” he said. “Can you bring them down?”

“Uh… I—I guess so.” The woman spread her arms apart, her palms glowing. Shortly after, the pillars shook, causing those on top to hold on for dear life. Then, the rock pillars descended until they were completely underground. The three Wardens found themselves back on the surface.

The mage Warden looked at the woman. “You,” she said, “you did this all. How did you do it?”

The non-mage Wardens turned to her. “I thought mages can do that,” said the auburn-haired Warden.

“A very powerful one can,” replied Duncan. “Clearly you are no ordinary mage,” he told the nameless woman. “I’m sure the mages in the Circle Tower would love to welcome you there.”

But the mage Warden was shocked. “You’re sending her to that… prison?!” she asked.

The woman raised her eyebrows. “It has been decided,” Duncan said.

“Are you sure about this?” the mage Warden asked the nameless woman.

“Why, yes,” the woman replied. “Don’t worry about me.”

The mage Warden sighed. “Very well.”

The auburn-haired Warden was fixing his hair throughout the entirety of the discussion. “So… are we to bring this spar to a conclusion or no?” he asked at length.

The dwarf blurted something out in a dwarven language, which the woman could only guess was a profanity, and placed his hammer on his back. “It’s clear that we’ve lost,” he continued. “We should celebrate her victory in this fight!”

And it seemed like his fellow Wardens agreed with the dwarf’s suggestion. Thus, the woman was announced the victor, and everybody went for the hall to celebrate.

Along the way, the woman was showered with greetings of congratulations and praises by those who watched. A few may have boasted that they could do better, but they meant it as a joke. Either way, the might have learned something from that fight… or they might not; it was their choice to try out what the woman did or not.

The mage Warden approached the woman. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” she said.

“Oh, no, it’s all right,” the woman said.

“It was Duncan’s idea, by the way. I thought you should know,” the mage added.

“As I guessed,” the woman murmured. Then she remembered something. “Oh! How are you feeling?” she asked.

“I’m quite fine, thank you for asking,” the Warden replied. “Don’t worry about me. I can heal myself.”

“Uh, okay… how about the other two?” the woman asked.

“Oh, they’re fine, too,” the mage answered. “They can take care of themselves.”

* * *

Everyone gathered at the campsite for their merriment. It was just their typical selves when having a break: eating, drinking, chatting, more eating, and oh, look, more drinking.

> _Perhaps those are what they always do in their spare time. Perhaps those are what they could not do all the time and her existence gave them a chance to do so. Maker knows what these Grey Wardens are actually doing in their spare time._

> …why am I concerned with that?

The woman was sitting at the side, eating a slice of bread, holding a flask of water. She was offered a bottle of ale earlier (and several more times in the previous days, mind you) but she refused. She found the smell of ale (and wine) somewhat revolting, though she could not really admit it. Water would be enough for her, for the time being.

After another bite and another gulp, the woman felt tired. She yawned and found the remainder of her meal unappetizing. She decided to retreat to her tent without telling anyone.

An elf Grey Warden sitting near a tree noticed the woman leave. He decided it was just for her to get some well-deserved rest but thought of informing the Warden-Commander later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm sorry
> 
> lol, please don't hate me for the so-called fight depictions


	5. The Long Road

> Darkness. Sheer darkness.
> 
> Everything is pitch black. Where am I?

A dragon’s roar echoed throughout the void.

The woman gasped as she woke up from her sleep. She then froze when she saw an unwarranted sight: Duncan and Riordan with some of their fellow Grey Wardens were surrounding her bed, faces painted with concern and doubt.

“What’s going on here?” the woman asked.

“You slept through the whole morning,” said Riordan.

The woman simply nodded as she tried to recall the last things she did before falling asleep. Duncan quietly informed the rest to leave. The other Wardens exited the tent and Riordan stayed near the desk.

“Do you remember what happened?” Duncan asked the woman as he approached her.

“No,” the woman replied. “A dream, perhaps?”

“Perhaps.” Duncan checked the woman’s facial expression, which caused a bit of confusion and discomfort on her part. But before she could say a word, however, the Warden-Commander nodded and said, “We were supposed to leave at this hour. Take your time in preparing. We will leave for the Circle Tower before sundown.” He then left the tent with Riordan following behind.

The woman then sighed as she got off the bed, rubbing her arm. “What have I done now?” she muttered as she started gathering her clothes in a pile.

The woman had just finished packing her belongings in a bag—belongings meaning her clothes (including the tattered ones she was found wearing), the parchments and the quill, and the blanket which she also found suitable for sleeping on the ground. She still had enough space in the bag for any consumables she might need to carry along the way. Somehow, the woman felt something else was missing, so she decided to go out and take a walk within the fortress. Maybe she’ll be able to ask Duncan for any more things she needed to know and have before they left the place.

The woman thought of going to the Tower and see if there was anything she could do there. Just as she reached the bridge, the same Grey Warden she saw back during her first night in the fortress called to her from the bridge itself.

“You must be the Warden-Commander’s charge,” the Warden said.

The woman stumbled on her words. “Uh, I guess so,” she managed to say.

“He wants you to meet him in the Tower,” the Warden continued. “I am to accompany you there.”

“Okay, then.” The woman then followed the Warden to the Tower, wondering what the Warden-Commander had in store for her.

* * *

At the same floor where the Wardens met with her the days before, the woman entered with the blond Warden, who then took leave after informing Duncan of their arrival. Duncan called the woman over. With him was Riordan.

“So, what’s going on here?” the woman asked.

“Riordan is leaving ahead of us for another errand,” Duncan replied. “I had asked him a favor before he departs.” He took something on the table and faced the woman. “The Grey Wardens do not usually take responsibility over anything or anyone that is beyond their cause,” he continued, “but your knowledge of the darkspawn is enough to bring you in peril. It is not uncommon for anyone to attempt to delve into the Order’s secrets, so should you be in danger of being interrogated of such, I believe it is fitting that the Grey Wardens should intervene. Understand that the sole reason we are sending you to the Circle Tower is your safety. I cannot fully guarantee it, even while you’re with us. I can send word to every Grey Warden within this land to keep an eye on you just to make sure, but I will also have to ask you a favor. Will you do it?”

> A favor? What favor?

“All right,” the woman answered.

“I am certain that the people in the Circle Tower will ask you about the Grey Wardens. I ask you to not tell them anything, other than the common knowledge about us,” Duncan said. “For once any word about the Grey Wardens is spoken in one place, it will spread throughout the whole kingdom like wildfire. I prefer not to, as it may be confused as the start of another Blight.”

“Though it is an honor to become a Grey Warden, it is also a choice meant for eternity,” Riordan added. “We have all risked our lives to become part of this Order, but most have already been lost.”

“From the Joining,” the woman said.

Duncan and Riordan paused, the latter looking at the Warden-Commander.

> _I don’t recall telling her anything about the Joining._

> _I don’t think she ever asked anyone about it here._

The woman raised her eyebrows. “Uh, well…”

“Either way,” Duncan proceeded, “this is mainly for your own sake. There is a dark history concerning the Wardens in this land. I do not wish that you be brought to harm because of it.”

“So, I am to not say a word about the Grey Wardens?” the woman asked. “Not a problem.”

“Are you sure?” Duncan asked her.

The woman seemed shocked by the inquiry. “Yes,” she replied. “As much as I don’t wanna say it, I promise.”

“Promises are made to be broken, as they say,” Riordan said.

“I’m keeping my mouth shut about the Grey Wardens unless their knowledge about darkspawn and stuff is the only thing that can save this land,” the woman said, sounding a bit defensive and aggressive. “How about that?”

But Duncan and Riordan had something else in mind. Duncan held the same object he took from the table on one hand. “Take this,” he said, “as proof of the promise you made today. I trust that you will keep it.”

The woman looked the object. It was like a brooch in the form of a griffon.

> Just like those that some were wearing. Only smaller.

“So, I am to keep it?” the woman asked, though it sounded more like a statement than a question.

“Yes,” Duncan answered. “But as I said, the Circle will be your safest place to stay. Though I expect them to ask you about the Grey Wardens, they are more likely to treat you as they would treat any other mage.”

“There’s no guarantee that I would see you guys again?” the woman asked, this time as a real question.

“We will meet again,” Duncan replied. “But it may take some time. I take it you have been told of my decision to seek for answers about your origin, yes?”

The woman nodded.

“That may take years to finish.”

The two men watched the woman seem to look around, as if looking for something while still holding the griffon-shaped object. She was trying to think of something, but the idea she sought after never came into mind. After a while she faced Duncan.

“As long as a bit of truth can be found,” the woman said, “I’m fine with that. But as I said, I won’t talk too much about the Grey Wardens except what everyone already knows. I hope. No, no, wait, no, I mean, not hope; I can do that.”

“We are counting on you,” Riordan said.

“So… am I supposed to wear this all the time?” the woman asked.

Duncan could only shake his head in amusement. “If you want to, you may. But I suggest you keep it hidden. Rarely do the Grey Wardens acknowledge anyone outside the Order as their own. Just keep it as a reminder of your promise.”

“All right, then.” The woman placed the item in her pocket.

The three remained silent for a while.

“I assume you two have something else in mind…?” the woman said at length.

Riordan was about to say something, but Duncan interrupted him. “No, that is all,” the Warden-Commander said.

“I was wondering if you have thought of a name for yourself,” Riordan added in a somewhat assertive manner.

“…oh.”

Duncan turned to his friend to try and stop him from asking further, but the woman blurted out, “Marian.”

The two men turned to the woman. “What did you say?” Riordan asked.

“Marian.” The woman shrugged. “You asked for a name. There you go. Easy to remember. I think.”

The two Wardens still looked at her, speechless. “Come on, guys,” the woman whined. “Stop staring at me like that already. I get it! I still don’t remember my real name, okay?”

“As long as you don’t regret choosing it,” Duncan said.

“I won’t,” the woman said. “Besides, it’s easy to pronounce.”

“Well, there you have it,” Riordan said. “We only had to ask.”

> Duncan seems irritated. What’s Riordan been doing to him?
> 
> Huh, what an ass.

“Well, then, Marian,” Duncan said with emphasis, “we will depart before sundown. Get ready. Our journey may not be as long as Riordan’s but it will be equally difficult for you if you don’t prepare.”

The woman fumbled on the brooch-like object in her pocket as she went back to her tent. In fact, she had been doing that ever since she left that room in the Tower of Ishal.

> Sheesh; they could have just told me directly about it in the first place. Anyways, at least we’re leaving for Kinloch Hold. I wonder how long it will take us to get there.
> 
> Marian.
> 
> That’s not a bad name.

The woman, now taking the name Marian, entered her tent. Just as she left them earlier, her bag was still on the bed, untouched. She then noticed a rolled-up rope on the chair in front of the desk. Taking it, Marian debated on whether or not she should take it with her. In the end, she placed the rope in the bag. She sat on the bed and looked around. She then felt the griffon brooch in her pocket and took it out. She looked at it intently, curious of the design and the materials used in making it. After a while, she pinned it on her dress, just at where the heart would be. She then put on a vest that matched the dress to cover the accessory. Marian felt like going out for some fresh air, so she went out to indulge in the view of the mountainside once more before leaving the fortress later.

Marian thought of going to the bridge to try and see the valley. But just as she got out of her tent, the mage Warden whom she had sparred the day before called her over to the campfire site. Marian went towards her and the two went towards the hall. The two ladies turned to what would have actually been a temple (perhaps the hall itself might have been a temple overall), to have something to eat—courtesy of the Warden—and have a little chat before Marian would leave for the Circle Tower.

“So, I see that you’re faring well,” the Warden said. “We thought you were in danger since you took so long to wake up.”

“Really?” Marian asked. “What happened, though?”

“Duncan sent someone to wake you up but you didn’t stir, so one of our healers was called over to observe you. He confirmed that you were merely exhausted from the fight yesterday and that you only be left to sleep until you wake up in your own volition. Needless to say, you woke up at the time you were supposed to depart with Duncan.”

“Yeah, he told me that,” Marian said, rubbing the back of her head.

“Did you perchance have a dream? Any dream?” the Warden asked Marian.

“Hmm.” Marian thought for a moment. “I don’t recall.”

“I see.”

The ladies fell silent for what seemed like an hour.

The natural tune of the wilderness gave a rather calming ambience to Marian as she stayed at the temple ruin with the mage Warden. The outsider felt compelled to stay, wanting to reside in this fortress while the Grey Wardens still remained. She suddenly gasped when she felt something on her shoulder. Marian turned and saw the mage Warden’s hand on her shoulder. She was smiling, and with a gesture to a certain direction, nonverbally informed Marian that it was time for them to go. The ladies then left the area, walking towards Marian’s tent.

Just as they were nearing the bridge, the ladies found Riordan approaching them.

“I thought you were leaving early,” Marian told the male Warden.

“Change of plans,” Riordan said. “Duncan and I had agreed that taking the same route would be a better option.”

“Huh.”

“That sounds good,” the mage Warden commented.

“Have you prepared your belongings?” Riordan asked Marian.

“Yeah,” was Marian’s reply. “Are we going now?”

“We are,” Riordan answered back. “Duncan is waiting on the other side.”

“Well, then. I should get going. You take care, my dear,” said the mage Warden to Marian and left.

Marian went inside her tent to grab her stuff while Riordan waited. It didn’t take the woman too long before she came back out with a reasonably small bag.

“So… let’s go?” Marian asked.

Riordan merely sighed with amusement as he led on.

Duncan was giving instructions to some of the Grey Wardens who were going to stay in Ostagar when Riordan and Marian approached him.

“Duncan,” Riordan called out.

“Ah, good,” Duncan said as he turned to the two. “How do you fare, Marian?” he asked the woman.

“Fine, I guess,” Marian replied with a smile. “Are we going now?”

“Yes. Ride on the horse.” Duncan was holding the reins of a horse standing beside him. Marian looked at the horse in a weird manner. Riordan, who standing behind her, stifled a laugh—or at least tried to.

> _I assume this woman has never ridden a horse before._

“Hey…” Marian turned to Riordan, who then abruptly stopped chuckling. Duncan then offered a hand to help her get on the horse. The two men then flanked the horse, one on each side. The three then began their journey to the Circle Tower.

The woman took the chance to observe the eastern wall of the fortress as they departed. And when she could not turn back any further, she resorted to facing the path they were treading.

“So… how do we get to the Circle Tower?” Marian asked.

“We follow the Old Imperial Highway,” Duncan answered. “We will rest at Lothering, the village north of here.”

“Lothering,” Marian mumbled as the party went on.

The trio traveled northward from Ostagar; Marian had noticed how the sun descended into the horizon on their left despite the trees when they were already at quite a distance away from the fortress. The two Wardens were chatting ahead of Marian, as the woman enjoyed looking around to the surroundings, as if to familiarize herself to the place.

The party continued on their path north at nightfall. Good thing it was a clear night; she would’ve hated to travel through rain in the darkness. The stars twinkled in the sky as Marian looked at them, trying to seek for any constellation she might recognize. Sadly, for the woman, she could not find one, so she resorted to staring at the moon, which was almost at its full. It looked larger than she anticipated.

> Must be closer, then.
> 
> Scary.

She was shaken off her thoughts by Riordan offering her a piece of bread, which the woman accepted gracefully. But of course, she could not shake off the doubt and suspicion she had about this man. Thus far, Duncan was the only person she could fully trust. Still though, knowing the connection these two have, Marian thought better than to blurt out her opinion about Riordan. She wouldn’t want to ruin a longstanding friendship.

* * *

The first time they set up camp outside Ostagar was pretty uneventful.

It was perhaps an hour or two before midnight when Duncan decided they should set up camp. It seemed reasonable, judging by Marian’s condition. She had been yawning since hours ago, sometimes causing Riordan to warn her about making noises. Because of it, the Wardens put up the tents while simply having Marian keep an eye over the horse and the party’s belongings. When her tent was finished, Marian quickly went inside and fell fast asleep, much to the amusement of her companions. Duncan felt unusually alert, so he volunteered to keep watch the rest of the night.

When Riordan woke up, he found his friend still awake, standing in front of the campfire. Riordan offered to take his place, but Duncan insisted to stay. The Warden-Commander instead asked him to scout the area beyond their camp for signs of any sort of presence. Riordan then set out and did not return until daybreak.

Marian woke up, feeling refreshed. She could hear birds chirping outside. Quickly prepping up to leave the tent, Marian wondered what she could do to help the guys so she wouldn’t feel useless. When she got out, however, Marian saw the two Wardens already sitting by the campfire with food.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Duncan said. “Come, join us.”

“Good morning,” Marian greeted as she approached the two. She then sat next to Duncan.

Riordan was at the leader’s other side. He offered Marian her share of the food. Marian took the food, still slightly suspicious, but with grace nonetheless.

The stay was short. After a bit of rest—and a quick pack—the trio continued their journey.

In a matter of days, the trio reached a small village by the Old Imperial Highway.

“This is… Lothering, I assume?” Marian asked as the three approached the village gate. She looked towards the area outside the village. For some reason, she could see flashbacks of people camped without tents, apparently fleeing from an invasion of sorts. Trying to shake off the thought, Marian hurried up to her companions, who were now standing at the gate with their horse.

“You should stay close,” said Riordan as the woman approached him and Duncan.

“Sorry,” Marian said with a scratch of her head.

Duncan led his companions towards the bridge. As they entered the gate, Marian saw a church-like structure at the right. She could see a pair of fully armored men flanking the doors of the structure. On the left of their path stood some houses. She could also easily see more houses at the other side of the creek. The trio went straight to a tavern at the other end of the bridge. She noticed a group of men standing just outside of the tavern, chatting, minding their own business. Riordan dealt with the horse while Duncan and Marian proceeded into the tavern.

Inside the tavern was a sight one would expect of such a place: men drinking, people chatting, some contemplating at the side, the bartender entertaining those sitting by the bar. A young lad carrying a plate of food hurried to one of the tables upstairs. He would have tripped off if Marian hadn’t moved out of his way quickly.

> _A group of armed men approached the party, acknowledging the latter as Grey Wardens. The men’s leader mentioned something about a bounty on each Warden’s head for their supposed crime of betrayal._

Marian shook off the sudden thought. It seemed to have become a trend to her: whenever she visits a place for the first time, some random thought comes out like a memory. She looked at the fireplace. There, a man standing next to a chest kept still, as if waiting for someone to approach him. Marian then heard Duncan call her. She found him and Riordan approaching a table upstairs. Marian then looked back at the fireplace… and found no one near it. No man, no chest. She swore she saw a man there. Trying to ignore it, Marian proceeded to her companions.

They had a decent meal at the tavern. How the Wardens were able to afford it was beyond Marian. She was not about to ask Duncan about it.

After a short stay at the tavern, the party headed northwards to leave the place. As they were leaving, however, Marian saw a woman with brown, shoulder-length hair entering the village from the north.

> She looks awfully familiar.

Shrugging it off as another misleading thought, Marian followed Duncan and Riordan towards the highway. She noted the windmill they passed by at their left and looked at the solitary tree at their right. Before she knew it, Marian found herself and the two Wardens already treading the Old Imperial Highway en route to the Circle Tower.

Somewhere between Lothering and the Circle Tower, the party set up camp to rest. It was a good thing that Marian packed little, because they were able to stock up on food back in Lothering. They sat around the campfire, most of the time Duncan and Riordan talking about Grey Warden business while they all ate.

After the supper, Marian got up. “I hope you two don’t mind,” she said, “I’ll be over there, resting on the ground to watch the sky. I’ll leave you guys to your business.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Riordan said, looking at the sky. There weren’t any clouds to cover the sky, and the moon was at its full, thus illuminating the open area.

“As long as you don’t venture beyond the camp site, Marian,” Duncan said.

Marian nodded and went to a spot and rested on the ground. Her cloak and her relatively thick dress made it possible for her to sleep on the ground without feeling uncomfortable. She could still hear the men chatting not too far from her; Marian chose to be fixated at the stars. She watched the stars shift, feeling the cold wind enticing her to sleep. When her eyelids finally felt heavy, Marian got up to head straight to her tent.

Marian saw the men still at the campfire, still chatting, apparently, but were in a rather casual aura.

“Ah, Marian. Done with your stargazing?” Riordan asked.

“Ha-ha, very funny, Riordan,” Marian replied. “I’m sleepy. I’ll go to my tent. Good night.”

“Good night, Marian,” Duncan said. Riordan merely replied to the woman with a nod and a smile, which seemed to cause Marian to scowl—without letting him see it, of course.

Inside the tent, Marian jumped straight to her makeshift bed, only hastily taking off her boots before doing so.

> Finally, I can get some decent rest.

Marian allowed herself to be lulled into sleep by the sounds outside.

* * *

Marian found herself walking on desolate ground. A dry, barren land, there was no sign of life. The bright day was unbelievably cool. To her surprise, though, the further Marian walked, the brighter the place became. Only when she stopped did Marian beheld an unusual sight.

A silhouette of a stranger came towards Marian from her left. When it stopped, the sunlight revealed the image of a redheaded woman donning an armor with the image of a griffon, a griffon similar to the brooch Duncan gave Marian. Behind the redheaded woman was a blighted land. Shortly after, Marian saw another silhouette, this time from her right. A fully armored person with a red cloth draped on the chest stopped at about the same distance as the first stranger. The person took off their helm and revealed an emerald-eyed brunette woman, who bore a striking resemblance to the woman Marian saw in Lothering days prior. Behind this woman was a mess of corpses of different kinds and burnt debris. And then from behind, Marian sensed a third stranger approaching. She turned around and saw a silhouette of a person who seemed to be wearing a fur-collared coat. Upon stopping, the silhouette was revealed to be of a woman wearing a long coat with furs seemingly lined and stacked atop layers on the shoulders. Behind her was a field of giant, glowing red crystals that seemed to shoot out of the ground and green orbs of light scattered across the field. Also wearing a hat, the third stranger visibly had a staff on her back. This made Marian realize that the other two also had their own weapons at the ready: the griffon-bearing woman had a pair of blades on her back; the armored woman had a two-handed sword on hers.

Just as she was about to question these ladies’ presence, Marian saw some people approach the surrounding women, stopping just behind them, each in between the ladies. A blonde man with glowing blue eyes stood behind the first two ladies; a crossbow-wielding dwarf stood behind the second and the third ladies; a woman with a bow and quiver of arrows on her back stood behind the first and the third ladies.

With this presence, Marian was curious but at the same time confused.

> Who are these people?
> 
> And why are they surrounding me?

None of these strangers said a word, but they all seemed to be trying to communicate with her. Shortly after, a roar was heard from a distance behind her. Then, above her flew a dragon. The said dragon seemed to circle the company, as if it was an ally of theirs. It was then followed by faint, echoing sounds of people screaming and crying, creatures growling and roaring, clashes of steel, and explosions of different kinds. Because of this, Marian felt uneasy. She wished she could wake up from this dream.

* * *

Marian woke up with a sore neck. “Ow… Must have slept crooked last night,” she muttered as she tried to alleviate the pain in her neck. When she felt her neck feeling better, Marian quickly got dressed and went out of her tent. To her surprise, it was still before dawn, and Duncan was alone at the campfire.

“A bad dream, I take it?” Duncan asked.

“Yeah.”

“If you wish, you may sit here.”

Marian thought for a moment.

> I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to sleep at this point.

“All right, then.”

Marian sat near Duncan; not too close, but still near enough for a chat.

“Any significant dream?” Duncan asked her.

Marian rubbed her forehead. “Well… I dreamt about a group of people,” she started. “But I have no idea who they are. But get this: one of them was wearing some kind of armor that bore the image of a griffon, just like of that thing you gave me.”

“Is that so?” Duncan asked.

“Yup.” Marian looked at the campfire. “I was beginning to wonder if that woman was a Grey Warden.”

“A woman?” Duncan asked again.

“Yes, a woman. She had two blades for weapons. Could be a rogue, like you.”

“What of the others, then?” Duncan continued asking.

“The second woman had a giant sword, so she must be a warrior. The third one had a staff; so, must be a mage.”

Marian proceeded to describe what she could remember to Duncan. “Even then, I still don’t get what they were doing in my dream,” she concluded.

“It depends on how you take it,” Duncan said. “If you believe that the dream has some important meaning, you may want to remember it. Perhaps you might even see those people you saw sometime in the future. Otherwise, you may want to avoid overthinking it. It may only be a headache.”

“Good point.” Marian yawned. She saw that the sky was still dark, even though a bit of light was already peeking out of the eastern horizon.

“I think I’ll just go back to sleep,” Marian said.

“Good idea. We’ll wake you if we need to go,” Duncan said.

Marian nodded and returned to her tent to catch up on her sleep.

Hours later, Marian woke up to the sound of things being moved. When she got out of her tent (fully dressed), Marian saw Riordan already fixing his tent. With that, she began packing her stuff.

“Let me help you,” Riordan told Marian as she was packing up the tent. Marian simply nodded and let the Warden do the rest. She went on to pack the remainder of their food.

“Don’t even bother calling me ‘princess’, Riordan,” Marian warned the Warden.

“What? I haven’t even said a thing yet!” Riordan exclaimed.

“You’re forgetting something, Riordan,” Duncan said from a distance. “She’s a mind reader, remember?”

“Oh.” Riordan sighed upon realizing. Duncan laughed as Marian smirked at the senior Warden.

“Can we just go now?” Marian whined, apparently done with her share of the packing.

With that, the three left the site to continue their venture.

* * *

A few more days went by, and the party finally were approaching an intersection of sorts.

“This way,” Duncan said, as he went off the highway towards a nearby lake.

“Where does that road lead to, though?” Marian asked, pointing towards the intersecting road.

“It leads to the Tower itself,” answered Duncan. “But the bridge has long been damaged, so it is impossible to get there through it.”

“Oh.” Marian followed the Warden-Commander, Riordan behind her.

The three were descending a slope, which had most likely been treaded by people for years. When they turned left, the party was welcomed by the view of the shore of the lake, the Circle Tower at the distance.

“That is Lake Calenhad,” Duncan said. “It was named after the first King of Ferelden.”

“Cool.” Marian found the view rather welcoming. She then saw the broken bridge. “Oh.” She approached the lakeshore, taking a closer look at the water. Marian pondered for a bit, wondering about putting her foot in the water. She then looked at the tower.

> I wonder what it looks like at night.

“Marian.”

Marian turned around abruptly, only to find Duncan alone. He seemed to have come from the inn.

> Hmm, I guess Riordan’s in there.

Duncan stood beside her, both looking at the tower.

“This is your last call, Marian,” Duncan told the woman. “Once we go there, there is no turning back. Are you certain of your choice?”

Marian sighed. “I am, Duncan.”

“I should lessen your burden, then.” Marian handed her bag to the Warden. They then approached a ferryman by the dock.

Duncan dealt with talking to the ferryman as Marian remained fixated at tower. She didn’t find it scary, not even intimidating. She rather thought it interesting, having to live in a tall tower for a long time, if Duncan wouldn’t return to pick her up sooner. Her pondering halted when Duncan called her over to be introduced to the ferryman named Kester.

Kester wasted no time in preparing to ferry his passengers. He felt it unusual for someone other than a Templar to take someone to the Circle Tower, but he asked no question either Duncan or Marian. His only task was to take them to the tower’s shore.

As the boat sailed across the waters, Marian observed the remains of the broken bridge. She wondered if there were mages in the tower powerful enough to cast ice to put the bridge’s pieces together if they were to cross the lake for the mainland.

> Easier said than done, but still plausible.

After a while, the boat reached the shore. Duncan and Marian saw the place seemingly empty, but the woman could feel that the place was nowhere near abandoned despite its appearance.

“Well, now,” said Kester. “Watch your step.”

Both Kester and Duncan helped Marian off the boat—Kester standing on the boat, Duncan on the shore. After a short exchange of words with the ferryman, Duncan led Marian to the giant door of the tower.

Marian could now see the other end of the bridge. She realized how far it would have been from the intersection earlier.

The two stood before the large door.

“Well, here we are now,” Marian said.

“I trust that you will be at your best, Marian,” Duncan said.

“I’ll try,” Marian replied. “No, no, not try; I will. Trying sounds half-assed.”

Before they even made a move to knock, the door opened by itself. From the inside, the two could see more armored people, similar to those Marian saw in Lothering.

“Templars,” Marian muttered as she and Duncan entered the room.

Inside the room were armor-clad people, armed with swords and shields. On their breastplate was a symbol: a flaming sword. They were all wearing helms, so Marian had no way of determining every soldier’s gender. Walking out of a door on the right were a small group of similarly clad men—judging by the way they walked—led by a man who carried his helm. His armor was slightly different from the rest.

> An officer, perhaps. Definitely a Templar.

The said man approached the visitors in greetings and spoke to Duncan. Marian didn’t bother caring about their chat; she was somewhat fixated at the corridor beyond the door. She saw some robed youngsters entering and leaving a nearby room. After a while, the armored men led the two inside.

“Where are we going?” Marian asked the Warden.

“We will meet with the First Enchanter,” Duncan answered. “He is in charge of the mages in this tower.”

“Oh.”

The Templars—as Marian guessed—led the guests to where they would meet the First Enchanter. Along the way, Marian saw people clad in robes of different types, all of varying age, race, and gender. Some were cheerful; many seemed in despair, like prisoners sentenced for life. When they entered a room full of tall bookshelves, Marian saw many of these magic-conjuring individuals practicing, learning, observing. There were mentors; Marian could sense the stress they had while teaching these newbies on simple magic spells. Not that Marian looked down on these apprentices; she felt inclined to help. The group then entered a circular room, where a stairway with a door led to the upper level of the tower. From there, only the Templar not wearing his helm led Duncan and Marian upstairs.

In the second floor, the party went on. Marian saw what seemed like the more refined mages of the Circle Tower: disciplined, well-educated, wise. There were also Templars there, but fewer than those downstairs. Just as they were about to reach the next flight of stairs for the upper level, the Templar stopped at the door of the last room. He knocked before opening, then went inside. Marian looked around as she and Duncan waited for him to return. After a while, the Templar came out of the room, opening the door wide.

“The First Enchanter wishes to see you,” the Templar said.

“Thank you,” Duncan said as he and Marian entered the room.

Inside the room were shorter shelves, slightly filled with books and scrolls. On the desk in the middle of the room were stacks of books and rolls of scrolls. Sitting behind the desk was an old man dressed in robes. He was reading something when Duncan and Marian approached him.

“Ah, Duncan,” the old man said as he stood up. “You have arrived.”

“I had sent a message a few days before,” Duncan said.

“Yes, yes; I had read them.” The man then turned to Marian. “And she must be…?”

“The one I’m talking about.” Duncan turned to Marian. “This is Marian,” he told the elder man.

Marian nodded. “Nice to meet you, ser…”

“I am First Enchanter Irving, dear child,” the elder man said. “I’ve been informed you have lost your memory.”

“True,” Marian glanced towards Duncan, “though I don’t think I’ll be having them back soon.”

“I see. I assume you have been informed of your purpose of coming here in its entirety,” Irving said.

“Duncan believed I’d be safer here, practicing on the arcane arts under supervision of more experienced individuals and that this is the best place to find them,” Marian replied.

“Oh?” Irving looked towards Duncan, who merely gave a slight shrug. “Such eloquence is mostly found in nobility and well-educated people. Even then, we rarely meet individuals who have such understanding of the Circle’s role.”

> Well, as long as you don’t ask me how I knew that.

“Anyways, Duncan and I will speak of it first, in private. You may visit the library if you wish; I’m sure there are mages there who are still having classes. There should be some who can take the time to entertain you. What do you think?”

“Uh… I can just stay outside. Don’t worry; I won’t eavesdrop,” Marian said.

Irving was about to react, when Duncan said, “You can trust her, First Enchanter. Though naïve, she dutifully tries to keep her word.”

“Well, then. You may go, Marian,” Irving told the woman, who then nodded and left. He and Duncan watched her leave. The moment the door shut close, Duncan said, “I must also remind you, Irving, that she is a mind reader. She might have read some of your thoughts the whole time.”

“Truly?” Irving asked. “If that is the case, then it is wise that you have chosen to have her stay here, Duncan. She could learn to use such gift in the most appropriate times, while giving this place a chance to resolve a longstanding conflict.”

“Perhaps,” Duncan simply said.


	6. A Newcomer

A Templar was standing opposite the First Enchanter’s door. He was assigned to wait for the guests to leave. On the outside, he was vigilant and well-versed of his surroundings; on the inside, he was merely eager to get the hell out of that spot and do something else. He had enough discipline to conceal what he truly felt at that moment.

> _Ugh; do they really have to have someone wait here? I’m sure they’re going to stay in that room all day. That’s it; I’m telling the Knight-Captain I need a replacement here._

Just as he was about to leave, however, the Templar heard faint footsteps approaching. Then he noticed the door open. Coming through the door was a woman in traveler’s garb and a bag. She seemed to ignore him completely; she proceeded to sit on the floor beside the door. The Templar had no idea what to do with this stranger, so he kept still. He could hear faint voices from inside the room, so the Templar believed that she was asked to go outside and wait. He did not notice the woman curl up as she sat still.

What seemed like hours had passed, and the Templar began to feel drowsy. He discreetly kept himself awake; his helm concealed his tired look. Moments after, he decided to rest his eyes for a bit.

But just as he was about to close his eyes, the Templar was startled by the woman by the door. He witnessed her move with caution, wondering what she might do.

The woman crossed her legs with her eyes closed, and after a moment she levitated. One could have sworn that the Templar’s eyes widened round as a pair of plates while he watched her.

Reminding himself of his duties and beliefs, the Templar pulled his thoughts together and remained vigilant over this stranger’s actions.

After a moment of staying at his spot, the Templar began to doze off. Trying to keep himself awake without being noticed, the Templar closed his eyes and subtly shook his head, hoping that the helm he was wearing would not move with it. When he opened his eyes, the Templar noticed the woman looking towards her right. He turned to see what she was staring at, and found out she was staring at the empty stairway that led up to the Templar’s quarters. The area was quiet, he thought, and he wondered why this strange woman was focused there. But just as he was about to turn his head away, The Templar heard faint sounds of what turned out to be footsteps and indistinct chatter coming from upstairs. He took a glimpse at the woman, who seemed eager (and happy) to see whoever was coming.

Moments later, the door from above the stairway creaked open, and clinking of metal could be heard in the manner of footsteps. Both the Templar and the anonymous woman beheld a fully armored elderly man, visibly strong and agile for his age, accompanied by a man who seemed to be a decade younger in age and appearance. They both bore the symbol that the stationary Templar had on their chest plates, and they both had their swords sheathed at the side, the younger Templar carrying his helm with one arm.

> Greagoir.

The two Templars kept their pace, acknowledging the young Templar in the corridor, who greeted them with a salute as they headed for the door. They noticed the woman once they were facing the door. The elder Templar looked at the woman, perhaps thinking twice about talking to her. The woman simply nodded in greeting, unsure of what to say to him; the Templar nodded back. The two then entered the room, the door closing behind them. Once more, the young Templar was left with the anonymous woman.

The stationary Templar felt a bit invigorated since he saw the elder Templar arrive. After a while, he began to hear voices from inside the room—not in a hostile tone; they seemed rather close to the door. He looked at the woman, who had been motionless since the Templars entered the room, probably sleeping. All of a sudden, the woman raised her head abruptly and looked towards the door, causing the young Templar to almost jump away in shock. She then entered the room alone.

Looks like the Templar’s gonna be staying there for a while.

The door creaked open as the woman approached the trio of superiors discussing calmly save the elder Templar, who seemed visibly irritated. She saw the second Templar standing by the door. The woman walked towards the youngest of the three.

“You called?” she asked.

The three superiors halted their talk and turned to her.

“Ah, there are you are.”

“She is whom you spoke of, Duncan?” queried the elder Templar.

“Yes,” Duncan replied. He turned to the woman.

> _Introduce yourself, Marian._

The woman nodded and bowed in greeting to the Templar. “I’m Marian,” she said.

“Marian.” The elder mage pondered for a moment. “Such a nice name,” he told the elder Templar. Irving then gestured to the Templar as he turned to Marian. “This is Knight-Commander Greagoir. He is in charge of every Templar in this tower.”

“I am also responsible for the safety of all here, mage or not,” the Templar added.

The tone of the two elders gave Marian the impression that they’ve had enough experience—perhaps more—in the matters of the arcane and the sensitive.

> Gentle and calm, stern and blunt.
> 
> Hmm. They sure complement each other.

“Duncan had spoken well of you,” the man named Greagoir continued. “He believes that you will master your gift in a short period of time.”

Marian turned to Duncan, who gave a faint smile while maintaining an aura of superiority about him. 

> Duncan…

“I assure you that she has proven herself capable of defending herself,” Duncan told Irving and Greagoir, “Provided that she is not outnumbered, of course. Even then, she would not be easily beaten by a game of numbers.”

“I take it you had… tested her capabilities while in your care, Duncan,” Greagoir said. “Otherwise, it would be difficult to accept your claim as it is.”

“Indeed,” was Duncan’s only reply.

“Come now, Greagoir,” Irving said.

“I meant no offense, Irving; please, there’s no need for mediation,” the Templar insisted.

Eventually the trio of leaders ended up becoming immersed in deep conversation, leaving poor Marian alone to her thoughts. Looking around, she noticed shelves of books and scrolls, either piled up, lain at the side, or merely scattered around carelessly. She felt tempted to check out a piece or two, but resisted the urge to do so.

> _She approached the desk in the middle of the room, upon which were a mess of pages, scrolls, and books, as if the owner had left the room in haste. She checked on some of the loose pieces of paper, and something caught her attention. It was a handwritten piece, the ink slightly smeared like it was put away before it could completely dry up. She tried to decipher the scribbles on the page, hoping to find a clue, and to her relief, she finally found--_

“Marian?”

Marian gasped loudly, caught by surprise. She then realized that Duncan, Irving, and Greagoir were now looking at her curiously. She then found herself looking like she was reading something, her arm halfway raised.

“Uh…”

> _It’s all right, Marian. Tell them._

Hearing the voice of the young commander, Marian carefully gulped, then let out a hesitant chuckle. She then straightened herself up as she cleared her throat, trying to recall what she just had thought in mind.

“Well, you see, sers, I—”

Marian realized she found it difficult to tell them what she just “witnessed”. She couldn’t even find the words to start it. She glanced at Duncan, who immediately caught sight of her inner struggle.

“She had been having visions since she was found,” Duncan began. “What those visions were, she could not tell, since her memory still had not returned.”

“Interesting,” Irving pondered.

“Perhaps those visions were her memories returning,” Greagoir suggested.

“Perhaps,” Duncan said, “But they still do not reveal her identity, let alone explain how she ended up unconscious within the Korcari Wilds.”

“I think it’s better we ask about what you just saw at a later time,” Irving told Marian. “You must be exhausted from your journey. And we’re terribly sorry for not accommodating you well upon your arrival.” He turned to Greagoir. “We have agreed, then, Knight-Commander?”

“Indeed,” replied the Templar.

Irving turned to the Grey Warden. Duncan nodded and told Marian, “We’ve discussed about your stay here and have reached a settlement. I will ask you again: Do you really wish to proceed with this?”

Marian remained silent as the three superiors watched her in anticipation.

* * *

The young Templar on duty had been standing at the same spot for quite some time already. Not that he was complaining—it was part of his duty, after all—but it seemed rather strange how that quiet woman was left alone to wait outside, only to enter the room and take so long to get out of it. She might be an interesting case for the First Enchanter. Perhaps the Knight-Commander saw some potential in her. He might as well have a story to share with his peers.

He then heard a group of voices and footsteps approaching the door from inside the room.

“…and all the basic necessities will be provided by the Circle, so there shouldn’t be a problem,” Greagoir spoke as he exited the room, his Templar companion holding the door open for him and the rest of the company. Accompanying Greagoir to the stairway was Irving, whom Marian followed, with Duncan walking behind.

Marian heard the faint sound of the door being closed behind them as she took notice of the same Templar standing at the hall, now believing that it was his post and he was on duty. Duncan held her shoulder as he gently led her on to the two elders ahead of them. The two elders carried on, leading their guests to the upper levels of the Tower.

Climbing up the stairs, the party beheld a sight uncommon to ordinary visitors of the Tower and its mage residents. A wide room divided by intricately crafted see-through walls was occupied by people of different races, genders, and ages, either mage or Templar were there, but were somewhat segregated. Marian recalled passing by rooms along the way: one was occupied by young Templars presumably on their first weeks of duty; one was occupied by slightly older Templars with some mages who wore robes that seemed to resemble some kind of higher rank; one was occupied by other Templars who seemed more behaved and wiser than most that she had seen; the younger Templar who had been accompanying the party took leave and entered the last room.

> About to have a meeting, maybe?
> 
> Who knows.

The rest of the entourage went on.

The group climbed another flight of stairs that led to a new level of the tower. Marian saw Templars—lots of them—out and about the place. There were younger Templars being lectured by senior Templars. Others were minding their own business. Nonetheless, every Templar greeted their superior as the party went along.

The Knight-Commander led his company to the center of the floor, then turned right into a wide room divided by similar walls like the previous floors below. He then went towards a desk nearby, while the others followed suit.

Greagoir was still explaining in detail the things about the Circle that Marian was going to expect, but she hastily attempted to discern every thought the old Templar had in relation to the things he said so as to not give him—and the old mage—the belief that she was not listening to him. Finally, the Knight-Commander turned his attention to Marian, who was still processing every bit of information he offered.

“I may sound harsh in asking this, but do you mind having a Templar around, Marian?” Greagoir asked.

“Me? No, not really,” Marian replied, a bit surprised.

“We rarely hear such a response from a mage,” Irving commented. “If you wouldn’t mind, too, Duncan, would you stay awhile?” the First Enchanter then asked the Grey Warden. “We only have to explain to Marian the things she needed to do before she is fully welcomed into the Circle Tower, but I feel it’s best that her companion is here for moral support.”

Duncan looked at Marian, who was facing him. The Warden then nodded.

“Very well,” Greagoir said.

“Does this involve some kind of precaution?” Marian asked before the Templar could even begin talking. “Well, I mean, just in case, right? Sorry, please proceed, ser,” Marian trailed off.

Greagoir and Irving exchanged looks of slight amusement, and they then went on to inform Marian (and Duncan) the procedure they were going to do for Marian to become a Circle Mage. Marian seemed unfazed by the details; her attentiveness gave the two superiors the assumption that the woman was more eager to get on with this quickly.

After a while of discussion and casual banter, Duncan and Marian were finally dismissed. Greagoir and Irving had a little private chat before concluding the meeting. At this point, Irving suggested that Marian and Duncan say their farewells.

“I shall let you talk at the entrance hall. The Knight-Captain will be there to accompany you once you’ve said your farewells, Marian,” Greagoir said.

“Thank you, Knight-Commander,” Duncan said, then turned to the woman. “Come, Marian. We should not waste time.”

Marian nodded as she followed Duncan.

* * *

At the entrance hall, Duncan and Marian had a small chat. The woman handed Duncan the same bag she had been carrying the entire trip; it contained all that she carried save her clothing, which she had left in the First Enchanter’s office for some odd reason, wrapped in the same blanket she took from the tent in Ostagar.

“We will meet again, Marian,” Duncan said, “and when that time comes, you will not be burdened by the presence of the Templars.”

“What do I do with the brooch?” Marian asked.

“Keep it hidden for as long as you can,” Duncan replied. “If you feel compelled to put it on, keep it concealed. Just remember to keep your oath.”

Marian gulped. “I will.”

“Now, I must go. Riordan must be waiting for me outside the tavern,” Duncan said. He then noticed the same young Templar that accompanied Greagoir earlier. “He’s here,” he told Marian.

Marian turned around and saw the same Templar, who now approached the two.

“Greetings,” said the Templar. “I am Knight-Captain Hadley, and I have been sent to accompany the young lady per the orders of the Knight-Commander.”

“Thank you for your assistance, Knight-Captain,” Duncan said. He looked at Marian.

“I’ll be fine, Warden-Commander,” the woman said, smiling.

The look on Marian’s face gave Duncan the assurance that she was well aware of her choices and that he shouldn’t worry too much of her. He reminded himself of that certain task he decided to do whenever he had the time in order to help this woman return to her place of origin. From that thought, the Warden-Commander felt at ease. He bid farewell with a nod, the gesture returned in the form of a wave of a hand by Marian.

Marian watched the Grey Warden walk out of the doors. The moment Duncan was out, the doors were closed shut and the Templars continued with their business. She turned to the Knight-Captain, who had been dutifully attentive the whole time. Hadley then led the woman back into the First Enchanter’s office to begin the process.

* * *

“Tell me, Marian… would you mind describing to us the treatment you’ve received from the Grey Wardens?”

Marian raised her eyebrows, as if to feign confusion and not give away her sense of suspicion.

“Uh… I was well accommodated, if that’s what you’re asking,” the woman replied.

“Hmm.” Greagoir stood a few steps away from Marian, his hands behind him. “I see. I understand that they will not allow you to disclose information about their order, but I have to remind you that we may inquire you if it is necessary. But of course, you should not be worried of it. You’re here to learn and master your magical abilities.” Greagoir turned to Irving.

“He is right,” Irving said. “Your role in the Grey Wardens will not be an issue here. But there is one thing of note.” The elder mage straightened himself up with a deep breath. “Since you are to be accepted into the Circle, you will be considered a Circle Mage. Both the Circle and the Templar Order answer to the Chantry. With your memories still irretrievable, we are unsure of how to introduce you with our lessons of the life and beliefs that we follow.”

> So… a religion?

“I should let you know firsthand, then, sers; I usually don’t mind other people praying in accordance to their respective religion. What would truly irk me is if they insist that I follow it, even when I believe in other things.” Marian shrugged with a smile. “What’s that called again? Religious tolerance?”

“Big words,” Greagoir said, amused. “We have agreed to allow you to follow what you believe, as long as you will respect ours. But of course, should you feel like it, you are welcome to learn more about the Maker and His Bride, whom we revere dearly.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“To become a Circle Mage, we must keep records of you,” Irving said, “which includes obtaining a sample of your blood.”

> To create a phylactery, right.

“When do we start?” Marian asked before Greagoir could begin to explain.

Greagoir and Irving exchanged looks. They knew this woman would be a handful.

“Now, if you wish.”

Marian underwent the process of… enrolling her into the Circle, as she would call it. Describing it as a form of bloodletting, the creation of her phylactery intrigued her. Nevertheless, Marian felt eager to start her life in the Circle Tower.

> Two years shouldn’t be that long… is it?

She was afterwards assisted by a Senior Enchanter for her belongings and a place to stay in the Apprentice Quarters. The Senior Enchanter led Marian to a room near the entrance, where she saw a group of youngsters clad in robes similar to that of the Enchanter. From there, Marian was introduced to the said group, whom she found out were apprentice mages that have spend some time in the Tower. They all seemed welcoming, the apprentices and the Enchanter, but maybe it was because they wanted Marian to feel welcome.

Such was unnecessary, though.

* * *

Marian spent her two years within the Circle Tower, which she had recalled seeing in the Grey Warden’s map as being called Kinloch Hold. The Tower was quite old, perhaps centuries older than the Circle itself, probably occupied by multitudes of factions and groups before mages turned it into their sanctuary of sorts. She undertook—and passed—some of the Circle’s strenuous and sometimes dangerous tests for her to master her arcane skills. When the time came, Marian underwent the Harrowing: the ultimate test every mage must pass into order to graduate (again, Marian’s words). Needless to say, Marian passed her Harrowing and was eventually made Senior Enchanter.

Her first task in the Circle in her new rank was to teach other apprentices, especially after the veteran mages and Templars (even Greagoir and Irving themselves) had noticed her seemingly natural talent of teaching her fellow mages how to deal with magic, much to the delight and relief of some instructors. Initially Marian refused, believing that she should start with assisting the mage instructors themselves. One of her mentors, Wynne, persuaded her into the role, assuring her that since she had just been recently moved from her apprenticeship, the apprentices would most likely find her more approachable. Marian gave in, and the next thing she knew, she was constantly sought after by the apprentice mages for matters ranging from the topics of magic to the most mundane of issues (like whether the dress suits the mage or not).

Marian had garnered such reputation that the social status of the mages was affected. Many of the apprentices who came from nobility attempted to even befriend her, with hopes that her influence could connect them to the First Enchanter. But Marian, being the mind reader that she was, made sure that both Knight-Commander Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving would know firsthand.

One day, Marian caught a group of older apprentice mages ganging up on a young Elf apprentice. Obviously, the moment they saw Marian they stopped harassing the Elf and greeted everybody’s favorite mage with courtesy. Marian held suspicion of the group and went along, pretending that she saw nothing.

Marian went straight to Irving’s office.

“Good day, First Enchanter,” Marian greeted.

“Good day, Marian,” Irving replied. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Hmm, I guess,” Marian said. “I saw the noble bloods ganging up on an Elf again recently.”

Irivng sighed. “Spoiled brats,” he muttered. “Did you alert the Templars?”

“I’m afraid not, ser,” Marian answered, “since they immediately composed themselves and insisted that they didn’t do anything wrong. I wouldn’t want to be branded a harbinger of false news.”

“That’s good, Marian. But tell me: how did you know they were harassing someone again?”

“Well, not only did I witness them doing it, it was clearly all they had in mind. I’m pretty sure they were caught off guard by my arrival, so they quickly stopped.”

“It is a grave accusation, Marian,” Irving said, “but the Knight-Commander and I both believe you can provide proof as necessary. I want you to observe these apprentices while you can and report to me your findings. I will talk with Greagoir about this.”

Irving and Marian then suddenly heard a knock on the door. Then came in Knight-Captain Hadley.

“First Enchanter,” the Templar greeted. “I have been sent by Knight-Commander Greagoir to fetch Marian.”

Irving looked at Marian. “Well, now. I assume you have informed him of it as well?”

Marian smiled like a child caught red-handed. Irving simply laughed and dismissed his student. Marian then followed Hadley to his superior’s office.

Knight-Commander Greagoir was dismissing his officers when Hadley entered his office. He seemed slightly relieved upon seeing Marian with him.

“If you would excuse us, Hadley,” Gragoir told the Knight-Captain. Hadley simply nodded and left.

Marian sat down. “Where do I start, Knight-Commander?” she asked.

“You can start by telling me the names of those involved,” Greagoir replied.

“Should I tell you the whole thing?”

“No need. I actually have records of their past actions.”

“Same group of girls. This time, they’re harassing Neria.”

“A newcomer, I see.”

“What’s gonna happen now, Knight-Commander?” Marian queried, concerned of the instructions Irving gave her earlier.

“I will hand this to you, Marian,” Greagoir replied, “I expect Irving had already asked you to keep an eye on them.”

“That, he did, ser.”

“Very well. You know what to do, Marian. I’d hate to see this place be labeled as biased in its treatment of mages.”

The next few days, Marian ensured that she’d get even a glimpse of the same group of mages she caught bullying the Elf named Neria. She gathered every info she could get about each of these mages, and when she got all that she needed, Marian reported to both superiors. After much deliberations and a short debate, Greagoir and Irving had the suspects summoned, and they told the young mages of their crime and punishment. Needless to say, one of the mages demanded the name of the superiors’ tipper, but Greagoir reminded them that their social status was useless within the Tower. With that said, the suspects of bullying and harassment of other mages were punished accordingly; one of them was scheduled to be made Tranquil. Marian, of course, asserted to both superiors that she was also well aware of her reputation in the Tower, and that she just wanted to stay low despite it.

The mages weren’t the only ones that went after Marian. Even the Templars of the Circle Tower would ask for her opinion concerning the two factions and the issues that they felt should require the thoughts of a mage. Knight-Captain Hadley had to constantly visit Marian whenever the Knight-Commander had a message for her. Sometimes, a group of Templars would invite Marian for a short break, provided that she also brought along a fellow mage or two.

Her neutral stance in the conflict between mages and Templars made Marian a target of criticism and suspicion, but was easily supported by the two superiors themselves. Because of this, Greagoir and Irving decided to do something unnatural for them, but they hoped this plan of theirs would offer both sides a glimpse of hope that there will be unity and tolerance amongst mages and Templars.

* * *

One day, Marian went to Irving’s office to pick up something. As she reached the door, she heard voices from inside.

> Hmm. Didn’t think he’d be busy today. Even right now.

Marian thought of waiting until she’d receive word to enter, but the voices were loud enough, albeit muffled, that she could not ignore the conversation.

“…coming from a farmland?”

“Yes, ser.”

“…quite an interesting background, I must say.”

“This will be your first assignment, then. We shall discuss your duties and responsibilities further in my office.”

> I guess that’s the cue.

Marian took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Good day, First Enchanter. I’m here for the—”

Marian paused at the sight of three men looking at her.

“Uh… I’m sorry; did I interrupt your meeting, Knight-Commander?”

“No, not exactly,” the Knight-Commander replied. “I assume you have an errand with the First Enchanter?”

Marian chuckled nervously. “Uh, yes, ser. I was supposed to pick up some books for Senior Enchanter Sweeney.”

“Ah, yes,” Irving confirmed. “They’re over here, on my desk. If you won’t mind taking them to him.”

Marian nodded and approached Irving’s desk. As she passed by the youngest male, she turned to look at him.

> Curly hair. Pfft.
> 
> And they still managed to stay put.

Marian gave a nod and went about her business.

The young Templar, on the other hand, seemed rather shocked. Confused, rather. He turned his attention to Greagoir, who was now talking to him again. The woman, he noticed, continued with whatever she was doing, showing no signs of eavesdropping, as if she was alone in that room. He glanced at the woman once she left, while remaining attentive to the conversation with his future superior.

Marian later learned that the new Templar was assigned at one of the Senior Mage Quarters’ halls. Sometime after, she was summoned to Greagoir’s office, only to be greeted by the news that the two superiors were going to do an experiment of sorts. According to Irving, it was going to be a type of collaboration between a mage and a Templar. Marian then found out she was going to be accompanied, all the time, by a Templar. This Templar was going to be the only one the whole time.

“For a lifetime?”

“That’s the plan.”

Marian chuckled at the thought. “Sers, ever wondered what the others might think? I mean, I am well aware of the conspiracy theories both mages and Templars have against each other, but I don’t know about this. Might add fuel to the fire.”

“That is because they have no idea what this is for,” Irving explained. “This is only to prove that a mage and a Templar can still cohabitate and not have the grudge against each other.”

Greagoir shook his head upon seeing Marian’s reaction. “You are not going to be chained to him, if that’s what you worry about,” he said. “You are going to be accompanied everywhere, I will say that, but both of you will have the right to speak your mind over matters, be it Templar related or not. All we ask from you is your fullest cooperation and mutual understanding.”

Marian pondered for a moment. “Hmm… okay.”

Greagoir cracked a faint smile as Irving sighed in relief.

“So… who’s the lucky Templar?”

Irving and Greagoir exchanged looks. The Knight-Commander then looked out to the hall and gestured for someone to come over. Later, entering the office was none other than the same Templar Marian saw in Irving’s office and later assigned at the hall for duty.

The young Templar saluted in greeting to his superior.

“This is Cullen,” Greagoir introduced the Templar. “I’m sure you remember him.”

“Yup, I sure do, Knight-Commander,” Marian said, seemingly staring at the young Templar’s golden curls. This caused the latter to feel uncomfortable.

“Focus, Marian,” Irving warned the young woman.

Marian shook her head and said, “I’m sorry,” while a crooked smile.

Marian and the Templar named Cullen were chosen by Greagoir and Irving for this… social experiment (yet another word in Marian’s vocabulary). They were to be seen together anywhere—except in private places, of course. But either way, they both were not to lose sight of each other while at the same time they were to assist each other. It caused a bit of concern on the mages’ part, fearing that this Templar would not allow them to approach Marian so easily. Somehow, Cullen had proven them wrong. In fact, he would be the one to allow the mages—and his fellow Templars—access to have a chat with his mage charge. Of course, he would have to listen in, but Cullen wasn’t exactly the nosy type. In return, Marian would let anyone speak to Cullen over different matters, much to the Templar’s discomfort. He would then insist that Marian stay close, especially when he was being interrogated about his preferences. This certainly amused Marian, but she would still save her Templar guardian from further humiliation.

* * *

For two years Marian had put up with the shenanigans of both mages and Templars in Kinloch Hold. She was able to overcome hardships and pains within the Tower. She had gained friends, including her Templar companion; she had gained reputation from both factions. Her name was even uttered in places outside the Tower where Templars would be found. Who knows; maybe even apostates might have heard of her antics in the Circle.

Marian had often wondered if Duncan would have some time to spare to stop by the Tower. Fortunately for the woman, Duncan did manage to pay her a visit. One day, he arrived at the Tower with a young man who seemed beaten up (turned out he had just been conscripted after a tournament). His appearance suggested that he must have been a Templar recruit. Duncan introduced him as Alistair. Duncan reminded Marian of her promise, of which Marian showed the griffon brooch as proof that she had not forgotten it, then the Warden-Commander told Alistair that he would know more of it once he became a full-fledged Grey Warden. The visit was short; Duncan wanted to see how Marian fared in the Tower. He then told Marian that he was getting close to the answers he was seeking concerning her, and hoped that he’d finally discover her origins before the time comes that she would be needed back to the Order.

Her stay in Kinloch Hold was not spared from her dreams and nightmares. One night, Marian dreamed of a strange place. The area was eerie; the sky seemed dark and slightly greenish. The ground looked deformed, as if it was crafted carelessly from clay. In the sky, dots and lines of what turned out to be floating islands remained aloft. There were a few trees—or what looked like trees—scattered about, leafless and menacing. Marian found herself loitering about this weird place, and strangely unafraid of what might be lurking in it. The first few instances of her dreams were short, but the later ones (especially those nearing her Harrowing) were longer and surreal. Three times did Marian notice a young girl out and about on her own, sometimes running around like she owned the place. The identity of the girl was unknown.

Overall, Marian’s life in the Circle Tower was pretty much… okay.

For her, at least.


End file.
